#source: at a mall in ohio

[needleworm]

anybody who thinks current emos/scene kids/mall goths/etc don't go to the mall anymore has never gone to a mall in ohio

[popculturelib]

Victory gardens were popular during World War I and II as a way for families on the "home front" to produce their own food and boost morale during food rationing war efforts. This Victory Gardener's Guide, Including Food Preservation Guide (1944), came from the Victory Garden Committee of the Cuyahoga County Council for Civilian Defense and the Garden Center of Greater Cleveland, in Ohio, as a practical guide to making victory gardens at home. Read below for more information on victory gardens and a sample garden plot.

The Browne Popular Culture Library (BPCL), founded in 1969, is the most comprehensive archive of its kind in the United States.  Our focus and mission is to acquire and preserve research materials on American Popular Culture (post 1876) for curricular and research use. Visit our website at https://www.bgsu.edu/library/pcl.html.

Image transcripts:

Foreword

Dear Victory Gardeners:

We are presenting to you herewith the new 1944 edition of the "Victory Gardener's Guide." We believe you will be delighted with its practical sug-gestions and new features:

Our Government is asking for more and better gardens in 1944. Last year we had 110,000 gardens in Cuyahoga County. That was a good record and we are proud of it. But there must be more and better gardens this year.

We hope that every family with a sunny site and suitable soil will have a vegetable and fruit garden if possible. Our 110,000 Victory Gardeners of 1943 should make plans immediately for more productive gardens this season. We also need from 15,000 to 25,000 additional Victory Gardeners. Begin now to select your site and make your plans for this summer.

Plan your garden carefully and then carry it out faithfully. Study this guide thoroughly. Use your seed and fertilizer for capacity production. Take care of the garden through every stage of planting, care, and harvesting. DON'T waste seed, fertilizer, or soil.

We wish to express our appreciation to the Executive Committee for their painstaking work on this guide. They are Mr. Robert P. Brydon, Chairman, Mr. Henry Pree, Mr. Harold Ward, Miss Helen Grant Wilson, Mr. Paul R. Young and Mr. Herbert G. Meyer, Director. They have been ably assisted by the Food Preservation Division, a group of leading home economists of Cleveland.

They have prepared this "Guide" for the sole purpose of helping you. The text has been revised and simplified. Twenty-three line drawings have been added, including one of the Mall Garden location. The seven 1943 Garden plans are still featured. Every one of these forty pages is packed with practical information.

We wish you good luck and a fine garden. You will enjoy the vegetables and fruit you raise and you will have the consciousness of giving real help in a worthy cause.

ARTHUR J. CULLER, Chairman Committee on Social Welfare and Health Civilian Defense Council

Making Victory Gardens

This Gardener's Guide is to help you make your Victory Garden efforts as effective as possible. Wasteful, spasmodic, non-productive or war-hysterical gardening must be avoided. The emphasis of Cuyahoga County's Victory Garden program is on better garden making during 1944.

The 1944 Victory Garden goal for United States has been set at twenty-two million home and community gardens, with at least a twenty-five per cent increase in food production. This is four million greater than the 1943 goal and two million larger than the twenty million gardens made in 1943, as estimated by the Gallup Poll. Applying this to Cuyahoga County, every one of this year's 110,000 gardeners should make better and perhaps larger gardens in 1944, and 15,000 new gardens should be made—a total goal of approximately 125,000 GOOD Victory Gardens.

Many valuable sources of information and helps on vegetable gardening are available in Cuyahoga County. These are listed in this booklet. Spe-cific garden plot plans, approved by the Victory Garden Committee for Cuyahoga County, are presented. They are graduated in size to fit the available ground area and the experience of the gardener.

Only a limited supply of these booklets has been printed in order to save paper and other materials. Please do not destroy this or file it away. In war or peace, it is good sense to "use what we have and keep it useful." If you have no further use for this booklet, give it to someone who will use it, or return it.

Who Should Raise Vegetables?

Individuals who have had successful vegetable gardens should continue with them, and increase the yield and quality.

Persons lacking in experience and knowledge of gardening can prepare themselves to make a good Victory Garden by taking advantage of the helps made available by the Victory Garden Committee.

Areas that are shaded, have tree roots in them, or where the soil conditions are not satisfactory, are not worth the sacrifice of vegetable seeds. DON'T waste capital and man power on poorly selected projects.

Sufficient time throughout the season must be budgeted for the Victory Garden to make it a successful venture. Only the amount of vegetables which can be properly cared for should be planted.

Children should be encouraged to participate in the Victory Garden Program under proper supervision. The educational aspect of the garden program should be emphasized, particularly as it relates to health and character building.

Community Maintenance and Improvement

The care of your Victory Garden will lead you into the care of your :lot and house. This is no time for disorder; we must have efficiency. This is no time for waste we must conserve. This is no time to let things run down; we must maintain what we have. War time is clean-up, fix-up time. We must use what we have, and keep it useful ; we will not get new tools, or furniture, or houses, for a long time. If you practice conservation on your own house and yard, you will contribute to the war effort as well as to the values of your home and your community.

You and your neighbors can use your work on Victory Gardens as a spring-board into an effective consciousness of other community problems. By working together on conserving your whole neighborhood as well as your own houses, you will build civic assets for this emergency and for long after. You will be doing real city planning, and building the better communities for which we fight.

As you work in your Victory Garden, you will realize more and more how much time and effort go into all gardening and building. We cannot afford to waste any of our assets. You will want to join in the movement to protect the parks, playgrounds, schools and public buildings that were built with your money for your use. You will feel the need for conservation and wise use of all resources—manpower, food, gardens; homes, neighborhoods, public properties—to win the war, and to enjoy the benefits of pace. And you will do your part.

Why Can?

WHY CAN? Home canning helps to supplement commercial supplies and saves transportation. It provides greater variety in meals by helping to equalize the seasonal food supply, and if properly done, home canning helps to supply food elements which are essential to health. It provides a means of pre-serving the surplus of your Victory Garden.

Home Canning Pays

If you grow supplies in sufficient quantities for your daily use and pro-vide an inexpensive surplus for canning—

If you can as quickly as possible when produce is sound, ripe, and fresh —two hours from plant to can is a good rule—

If you buy direct from a farmer or home gardener at a low cost to justify home canning—

If you have suitable equipment and suitable storage space.

If you will can products efficiently and according to the best canning techniques—

If you can proper amounts of the various food products—not too much nor too little, but just enough to last the family through the coming year

General Rules

There is no such thing as luck in canning. It is a science requiring Care and Precision. The sooner the food is canned after picking, the better the result. The product will be no better than the material that goes into the can. Select foods with care, using only sound perfect produce in prime condition. Canning does not improve the product, it only preserves it.

Use the right method for the food to be preserved. Tomatoes are the easiest vegetable to can. All other vegetables are non-acid and should be canned in a pressure cooker, dried, or put down in salt. The safer method is to sterilize the food packed in the can. The two recommended methods of sterilizing in the can are processing by hot water bath—or by pressure cooker.

Victory Garden Plans

Seven plans for adult Victory Gardens are presented on pages 9 to 15. They range in size from 150 square feet to 5,000 square feet. Two additional plans designed especially for children are shown on page 16. These gardens have all been carefully planned to make full use of soil area for the entire season. The Victory Gardener should select the plan which best fits his conditions.

The smaller sized plots are limited to vegetables economic of space and with high food value. Crops such as corn, pumpkins, squash, cucumbers and perennial crops such as asparagus and rhubarb are included in the larger plots.

The four major vegetables--judged on ease of culture, maximum yield, high vitamin content, general use, and facility of canning or storing—are tomatoes, carrots, beans and vegetable greens. These have been included in the largest amounts consistent with a well balanced vegetable garden plan. All other crops are secondary, yet worthy of inclusion to vary the wartime menu.

Selecting the Plan

The size of the garden should be determined by the site, space and time available, and the needs of the family. Approximately 1,000 square feet of land will produce enough vegetables for a family of four during the summer. A larger plot will be needed to provide for canning and storage. Even the smaller gardens, 1 to 3, yield surprising quantities of vegetables. You can expect to spend at least one hour a day in the 1,000 square foot garden. It is better to take good care of a small garden than to have one so large it is neglected.

These suggested plans may be used for individual home garden plots or as units of a community garden.

Notes and Suggestions

The tomato plants, as shown in the plans, are spaced for staking and tying. If grown on the ground, space 3 to 4 feet apart.

As noted earlier the major crops are tomatoes, beans, carrots and such greens as lettuce, spinach, Swiss chard, endive, beets for tops, mustard and others. If more of these major crops are wanted, substitutions may be made, as for example, carrots in the parsnip row, tomatoes where asparagus and rhubarb are shown. It is better, however, to follow the plans.

Potatoes should only be grown in garden areas larger than 5,000 square feet, and only where the soil is suitable. A fairly acid soil is recommended for this crop. Check other cultural information on potato raising before attempting to grow them.

Harvesting of vegetables from the garden is greatly increased by succession planting. As soon as one crop is harvested, fertilize and plant with a crop which will mature before the end of the season. The harvesting period for many vegetables may be extended considerably by planting at one time varieties having different maturity dates. Succession planting is provided for in the plans given in this booklet.

In Plan Number 7, the area on the right side may be planted with early, quick-maturing crops such as lettuce, peas, spinach, onion sets, radishes, etc. This may be done also in Plans 5 and 6 where early crops are not indicated in the areas devoted to late crops. This will result in a still more intensive utilization of the soil area.

READING THE PLANS

The following guide serves for plans 1 to 7.

The rectangles represent the outlines of the plots. The letters A, B, C and D mark the corner stakes.

Lines across the plots mark the vegetable crop rows. Solid lines are for full season rows and broken lines - - - - are for partial season rows. The latter, except where succession crops are marked, indicate "companion" crops.

Names of the crops are shown in the rows. Parentheses ( ) around a crop name indicate a succession crop to be planted after the first crop is harvested.

The small circles indicate transplanted plants; the large circles indicate hills of squash and cucumbers. Short perpendicular lines divide rows between various crops shown.

The inch measure (6", 12", etc.) indicates distances between the rows. These are shown at the left of the plans. The foot measure (2', 4', etc.) indicates distances in the rows, as for example, the spacing distances between transplanted plants, or sections of crop rows.

The asterisks * on the left mark the rows which can be planted as early as soil conditions and season will permit after April 1. Broken lines so marked should be planted first. All rows not so marked should be planted after May 25. Succession crops ( ) are planted immediately after the crops which they follow are harvested. Pepper plants are usually transplanted on or after June 1.

[thnxforknowingme]

Courting Royalty

Pairing: Klaine Rating: T Word Count: 12.7k

Summary: During Kurt’s senior year, his friend Rachel gets some surprising news: she’s the princess of a tiny European country, and she has a twin brother to share the throne with. The summer after graduation, Kurt visits his newly-royal friend in the country she’s heir to before they head to New York for college. Staying in a castle and rubbing shoulders with European nobility is pretty overwhelming, but the most remarkable part is meeting Rachel’s brother Blaine, the new prince who Kurt instantly begins crushing on. This summer is either going to be a fairy tale come true, or result in multiple diplomatic catastrophes. Inspired by Meg Cabot’s Princess Diaries series and the movie adaptations.

Written for the Klaine 3-2-1 Prompt Bang. Art by @quizasvivamos (more beneath the cut!)

EntertainmentWatch.Com > News > Royals

SURPRISE ROYALS ON AMERICAN SOIL Fairy Tale Comes True For Two Ohio Teens By Yvette Wicks | November 22, 2011

In a shocking turn of events, news sources were tipped off today that two unassuming teenagers living in Ohio are not only twins separated at birth, but direct descendants of the royal family of Genovia.

The Principality of Genovia is a little-known microstate on the Mediterranean coast, bordered entirely by France. It has limited influence on the global stage, but is notable for its lack of income taxes, high levels of literacy and education, and gorgeous natural scenery. The nation is home to just under forty thousand people, and established its sovereignty in the wake of the Napoleonic wars. It has been ruled by the Renaldo family ever since its founding.

The current monarch, Queen Cybille, seemed to be the last living Renaldo after the tragic death of her son and only heir last year. Prince Oliver Renaldo was 43 years old and apparently childless when he died from injuries resulting from a boat crash off the Genovian coast.

However, our source revealed that while the country mourned the loss of their prince, Genovian intelligence agencies began an in-depth investigation to locate any previously-unknown relatives of the royal family. Genovia’s founding charter decrees that in the absence of a Renaldo monarch, the territory will be forfeited to France. In order to maintain the country’s independence, Genovian officials were desperate to find a viable heir.

Their detective work apparently paid off in unexpected ways - it was revealed that the late prince had a brief relationship with an American woman in the 1990s, who shortly after returned to her home in Ohio and gave birth to twins. Both children were given up for adoption, and as of yet  there is no evidence that the prince ever knew he had fathered two children.

Rachel Berry of Lima, OH and Blaine Anderson of Westerville, OH have been identified as the mysterious royal twins. These two average American teenagers have grown up completely unaware that they might one day rule a small nation on another continent. Neither of the royals or their adopted families could be reached for comment, but Miss Berry’s social media posts reveal her to be a dedicated and multi-talented performer, while Mr. Anderson has been identified as the central singer in this semi-viral video of an impromptu vocal performance at Westerville’s North Hills Mall.

For more updates on all things royal news, subscribe to the Entertainment Watch newsletter!

***

When Rachel had told Kurt that she was secretly a European princess, he was 100% certain that it was a scam.

Like, one of those email scams where some nondescript foreign prince allegedly has millions of dollars that are mysteriously tied up and if you only give them your credit card number, you’ll be handsomely rewarded. This seemed a lot more elaborate than that, when Rachel explained it in excited, hushed tones during lunch period one day, but it still had to be a scam.

Kurt had made his opinion on this abundantly clear, because there was no way Rachel Berry was royalty.

And yet, here he was, stepping out of a town car in front of an honest-to-god castle. And there Rachel was, waiting for him in front of the castle, wearing an outfit that he actually approved of for once.

“Kurt!” Rachel exclaimed as soon as he stepped out of the car (after the driver opened the door for him). “You made it! I’m so glad you’re here!”

She pulled him into a tight embrace, and while he appreciated the hug from his friend who he hadn’t seen in months, he was still pretty preoccupied by the literal castle he could see over her shoulder.

“Hi, Rachel,” he said weakly.

She pulled back, squeezing his arms and beaming up at him. “Come on, let me give you a tour. Antoine will bring your things up to your room.”

Kurt had just enough time to glance over his shoulder and see a well-groomed man retrieving his luggage from the town car’s trunk before Rachel was tugging at his arm, leading him up the stairs and through the ornate doorway into a manicured courtyard.

Kurt had barely even heard of Genovia before the whole secret-royalty thing came out. He’d had to learn its name at some point for a test in World History, but he probably couldn’t have located it on a map a year prior. When Rachel told him about it he started doing some research, motivated to get to the bottom of things both by his disbelief in Rachel and his childhood obsession with Princess Diana. But then the information was somehow leaked to the press, and Rachel’s photo was plastered in newsstands across the country. McKinley had been briefly invaded by hordes of news vans and reporters, trying to talk to anyone who knew anything about Rachel, before Coach Sylvester had chased them off with a fire hose. 

Amid the ensuing media storm, and the results of a DNA test, Kurt had been forced to admit that for once Rachel Berry was not simply entertaining delusions of grandeur - she genuinely was a princess. After winter break she had moved to the European principality she was heiress to, finishing out her high school education with a prestigious private tutor. 

Seeing her now, Rachel seemed very much at home in the castle. She told Kurt about the history depicted in certain tapestries and paintings, and greeted the servants they passed by name. Kurt was impressed by how quickly she had acclimated to these circumstances, and wondered how she felt about leaving for NYADA at the end of the summer. 

They ended the tour in Rachel’s room, which included a fireplace, an elaborate vanity, and an extensive walk-in closet that Kurt definitely wanted to examine more closely later. Rachel sat down on a plush armchair near one of the windows and sighed happily. “This summer is going to be so great,” she said. “It’s been nice here, but I’ve missed some things from home. I’ve missed you.”

Kurt smiled at her, then stepped closer to the window to look down over the landscaped gardens outside. “I’ve missed you too,” he said. “And I can’t imagine a better place to take a vacation.”

There was a knock at the door, and Rachel got up to open it. Before she’d even made her way across the room, a voice was calling from the hall. “Rachel, are you there? I talked to Eleanor about installing the karaoke machine. She still has reservations, but I think we can convince her.”

Just as the voice was finishing his sentence, Rachel opened the door to reveal a boy who looked their age, with dark slicked-back hair, statuesque features, and bright golden eyes.

“Oh,” the boy said, his eyes flicking from Rachel to Kurt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No apology necessary,” Rachel said, stepping back to open the door further. “This is my friend Kurt, he just got in. Kurt, this is my brother, Blaine.”

Blaine. Of course, Kurt knew of Blaine, had read about him in the news articles and heard from Rachel what it was like to meet her long-lost brother and start navigating royalty together once they both moved to Genovia. He’d been curious to finally meet Blaine when he arrived for his six-week trip to visit Rachel.

After Rachel’s introduction, Blaine smiled widely, his face excited and earnest. “Kurt! I’m pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Kurt replied, trying desperately not to sound as wrecked as he felt.

Blaine was the most gorgeous guy Kurt had ever seen. And he was a prince. And Rachel’s brother.

It was going to be a long summer.

.

The next day, Kurt struggled through jetlag as he followed Rachel around the castle and grounds. In the morning he was introduced to the formidable Queen Cybille, who was appropriately regal, greeting him kindly but still maintaining an intimidating level of decorum. She welcomed him to Genovia, asked a few questions about him and his summer plans, and instructed him to let Rachel know if anything during his stay wasn’t to his liking. Then she dismissed them, as she was scheduled to meet with the prime minister shortly.

Kurt’s mouth had been dry with nerves the whole time, but Rachel insisted that he’d done an excellent job of meeting the queen. “She’s old-fashioned, but not too strict,” she insisted as they walked down the hall. “She’s been remarkably patient with me and Blaine as we learn the ropes.”

“Is it weird that she’s…your grandmother?” Kurt asked.

Rachel shrugged. “I guess so. The queen has been very kind to us, and I’ve enjoyed getting to know her, but she certainly doesn’t feel like family.”

Kurt nodded. “And what about Blaine?”

“Well, I’ve never had a sibling before, so I don’t really know what it’s supposed to feel like,” Rachel said. “But we’ve become good friends. And duet partners, god Kurt, you have to hear him sing.”

Of course, Kurt thought, he sings, too. As if he wasn’t already perfect.

Not fifteen minutes later, they ran into Blaine on their way to the gardens. He happily accepted Rachel’s invitation to join them, helping to show Kurt around and enjoy the nice weather. Spending more time with Blaine did nothing to temper the immediate crush that Kurt had formed. Blaine was friendly and thoughtful, charming and considerate. He showed Kurt where the most beautiful flowers were, which trees held the most delectable fruits. He laughed at Rachel’s antics, but also showed genuine affection for her - maybe they didn’t feel like family just yet, but Kurt could see how much they cared about each other.

They set up a game of croquet on a large, vibrantly green lawn. Kurt was watching Rachel line up a shot with her mallet when he heard Blaine’s voice over his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here. Rachel has talked about you, a lot. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Kurt turned to look at him, trying not to be too dazzled by the way the sun sparkled off Blaine’s eyes. “You as well,” he replied. “Honestly, I’m surprised Rachel has talked about anyone back in Lima. She seems to have taken to royalty like a fish to water.”

Blaine smiled. “There is something naturally commanding about her. I don’t know how I would have survived the past few months without her. It’s so overwhelming, it’s nice to have someone else to go through it with.”

Kurt tilted his head, trying to subtly examine Blaine. While he certainly looked handsome enough to be a prince, Kurt knew that he, too, had been adopted and raised in Ohio. “How are you liking it?” Kurt asked. “I mean, this certainly must be an upgrade from anywhere in Ohio.”

Blaine laughed, looking down at the croquet mallet he was holding. “I mean, you’re right, I can’t complain. It’s weird, but it’s all - very nice. There’s so much to learn that I’d never really considered before. And I have to learn French on top of everything else.”

Genovia’s official language was French, although Kurt had noticed that all of the castle’s inhabitants seemed to speak English as well. “And how are your French classes?” Kurt asked, in French.

Blaine glanced up at him in surprise, then smiled. “They’re good,” he said slowly. “And I can practice with the employees in the castle, too.”

“It can be difficult and strange,” Kurt went on, “but I think it can be a much more beautiful language than English.”

Blaine blinked, seemingly flustered. “What was that?” he asked in English.

“I said I think French is more beautiful than English, in a lot of ways.”

“Oh,” Blaine said, shaking his head slightly. “Um, yes, I - when it’s spoken well, it can be very beautiful. You seem rather adept at it, maybe you could help me practice.”

Kurt felt something flutter in his chest. “I’d love to.”

“Kurt,” Rachel called, walking across the lawn towards them. “Are you going to take your turn or just stand there?”

Kurt felt his cheeks warm. “Sorry,” he said.

Rachel reached them and paused with a smile. “Eleanor just stopped by and told me that we’re having a formal dinner Friday night,” she said. “Apparently some foreign dignitaries are visiting. And guess who else will be there - the head of the Genovian Arts Council! I really want to be introduced to her. Once I’m allowed to have some actual responsibilities as a princess, I’m hoping that I can get involved with the royal theater and opera house.”

“That’s great,” Blaine said earnestly. “I’m sure she’ll be excited to meet you, too.”

Kurt stepped away from them to find where his croquet ball was stationed on the grass, his skin still buzzing pleasantly from his exchange with Blaine.

.

Over the ensuing week, Kurt was introduced to all things Genovian. They took several trips into the nearby capital city, Pyris, where they went to museums and galleries and historical monuments. Rachel brought Kurt to her favorite gelateria, and introduced him to Genovia’s traditional pear-flavored confections. They went shopping, trying on clothes and accessories and fragrances, being waited on by diligent sales associates. 

Sometimes it was just Kurt and Rachel on these trips - and the bodyguards that accompanied Rachel any time she left the palace grounds - but Blaine tagged along sometimes, too. His easy manners, wide-eyed enthusiasm, and impeccable pop culture opinions only served to endear him to Kurt even more.

Dinner that Friday was, indeed, quite a formal affair. All their previous meals had been eaten in a moderately-sized and well-appointed dining area just off the kitchen. Tonight, however, they were in a lavish banquet room, with mirrored walls and twinkling chandeliers and lacquered wooden floors.

Rachel, whether by luck or negotiation or subterfuge, had ended up close to the head of the table, sitting next to the Arts Council leader that she’d been hoping to schmooze with. Kurt was much farther down, seated between Blaine and a diplomat from Switzerland.

Kurt had always considered himself well-mannered and had made an effort to be acquainted with etiquette, but even he knew he was out of his depth as he stared at the unconscionable number of silver utensils surrounding his place setting.

“Don’t worry,” Blaine said, and Kurt turned to see that the prince had leaned in close so that their words wouldn’t be overheard. “I was totally overwhelmed at first, too. I’ll tell you what to do if you need it.”

Relief flooded Kurt’s body. “Thank you,” he said.

Blaine bumped their shoulders together lightly. “Of course. My first piece of advice: pace yourself with the food. There’ll be at least five courses, and you’ll want to have room for dessert.”

Kurt felt warmth spread from where Blaine had brushed against him, and the already-nervous butterflies in his stomach began to flap more erratically.

They all stood when the queen entered, looking elegant in a dark blue gown. She welcomed all of the guests, then bid them to take their seats for dinner to begin.

The man on Kurt’s left side was plainly uninterested in conversing with an American teenager, and instead spoke in rapid French to the more notable diners around them. This meant that Blaine was Kurt’s only conversation option, which he didn’t mind at all.

The first course was steamed oysters, and Blaine explained to Kurt that Genovian food is largely influenced by French cuisine, with an emphasis on seafood, considering their location on the coast.

“I’m sure I’ll love everything,” Kurt said, setting aside the tiny oyster fork that Blaine had pointed out to him. “I started watching Julia Child when I was four years old.”

Blaine tilted his head, seemingly impressed. “Do you like to cook?”

“I do,” Kurt replied. “I always have. Lately I’ve been trying to teach my dad a few things, so he doesn’t live solely off of frozen food and takeout once I go to college.”

Blaine opened his mouth as if to say something, but was interrupted by the parliament member sitting on his other side, asking him about his recent studies in diplomacy.

Kurt took a sip of the white wine that he’d been served. He’d only tried drinking alcohol once before, his sophomore year, and had a pretty terrible time. But everyone here was drinking wine, and it calmed his nerves to have something to distract him, something to do with his hands.

The next course was a carrot soup, followed by a poached sea bass with roasted vegetables. Everything tasted delicious, and Kurt found that he even grew to like the taste of the wine the more he drank. Blaine was friendly and attentive, and they talked more about their favorite meals, about who cooked in their houses back in Ohio, about Blaine’s transition to new foods and traditions in Genovia. Conversation came so easily with Blaine, and Kurt felt the anxious knots in his chest loosen as dinner went on. The fact that the servers kept refilling his wine glass didn’t hurt, either.

After the salad course, they finished with dessert: a small, round cake soaked in hot rum syrup, garnished with a dollop of vanilla cream. Kurt took a bite and nearly moaned - it was perfectly moist and unspeakably delicious. 

“Amazing, right?” Blaine asked.

“Incredible,” Kurt replied, turning to smile at Blaine.

Blaine’s eyes seemed to flicker down towards Kurt’s lips. “Oh, you have -” Blaine tapped the side of his own mouth.

Kurt lifted his left hand to cover his mouth and swiped his tongue over his lips, tasting the hint of vanilla and rum there.

“Better?” Kurt asked, revealing his mouth.

“Yeah,” Blaine said, but he still seemed to be looking at Kurt’s lips, and god his eyes were just so gorgeous -

Kurt thoughtlessly set his hand back down, fully absorbed in Blaine’s gaze, but he felt it hit something unexpected. He glanced down in alarm just as gravity pulled his fist all the way down, catching the edge of his plate on the way to the tabletop.

The plate tilted sideways, catapulting the rest of his cake into the air. He watched in horror as the cake hit the wine glass of the diplomat seated next to him, knocking it over and pouring the liquid onto the tablecloth. The woman on the diplomat’s other side saw this and recoiled from the encroaching spill, inadvertently knocking into the prime minister, which caused him to drop the fork he’d been lifting towards his mouth. The fork fell onto his plate, landing in his vanilla cream and sending tiny dots of it spattering in all directions - including onto the queen herself.

Amid all the chaos, Kurt thought he’d seen a flash of movement on his right side, but he hadn’t had time to process it. Once the mortifying chain reaction had ended, the table was entirely silent, and everyone’s eyes followed the trail of mishaps, their head collectively turning towards him - 

“I’m so sorry!” said a voice to Kurt’s right - Blaine’s voice. “Pardon, je suis désolé, I’m so clumsy! I knocked over my glass and startled Kurt -”

Kurt turned his head to see that, yes, indeed, Blaine’s glass was horizontal on the table, his remaining wine seeping into the tablecloth. But that wasn’t right - Blaine’s glass had been upright when Kurt had sent his dessert flying.

“Well,” said Queen Cybille, using her napkin to delicately dab away at the cream that had landed on her cheek. “Certainly we are all capable of making mistakes, though perhaps we should work on containing your gesticulations, Prince Blaine.” Somehow, in only a moment, she had become perfectly regal again, as though nothing even remotely uncouth had occurred. “I trust no one was injured in this calamity?”

There was some grumbling from the diners who had spilled food or drink, but no one spoke up. The queen smiled serenely. “Let us all retire to the grand hall for digestifs, then, and leave this mess behind.”

Kurt moved woodenly as he copied the other guests, standing up behind his chair and watching the queen lead the way out of the dining room. Everyone trailed behind her, but Rachel paused on her way out.

“What was that?” she asked softly, looking at Blaine.

The prince shrugged. “I can get very passionate when discussing which actor played the best James Bond,” he said simply. “Guess I got carried away and gestured too broadly.”

When Rachel turned away, Kurt continued to stare at Blaine. They were the only ones left in the room, besides the servers who had started collecting dishes off the table.

“What did you…” Kurt began, unsure what he was even trying to ask.

Blaine winked at him. “I didn’t want you to be embarrassed. It was sort of my fault, anyway. And people here feel the need to be nice to the new prince. I might as well take advantage of it.”

“Thank you,” Kurt told him. “God, you didn’t have to -”

“I’m glad I did,” Blaine insisted. “Come on, you didn’t get to finish your dessert, and they usually serve these delicious cookies with the post-dinner cocktails.”

With that, Blaine headed for the door, and Kurt was more than happy to follow him.

.

Rachel flicked the lights on in her closet as she and Kurt stood in the doorway, illuminating the seemingly countless racks of clothing.

“Some of them are by Genovian designers,” Rachel said, stepping inside. “The queen says it’s good to, you know, support our own artisans. There’s a lot of French and Italian stuff, too.”

Kurt marveled at how much couture Rachel had received as a princess, immediately stepping forward to comb through the dresses. “This is insane, Rachel.”

“I know,” she replied, plunking down into one of the velvet-upholstered seats in the closet. “They’re beautiful, but I don’t know heads or tails about it. I figured you could have a real appreciation for them.”

Appreciate them he did. As he reverently examined different pieces, he asked, “So how did your conversation go at dinner last night? You were sitting so far away from me, but it seemed like you were speaking to the Arts Council director a lot.”

“Yes, it went wonderfully!” Rachel said, with a delighted clap of her hands. “There’s a new opera opening this Thursday, and she said she’d love for the royal family to be in attendance. She even said I could see backstage beforehand! And you’re coming too, of course.”

“Oh my god!” Kurt exclaimed. “Nice work! God, just think that when we’re in New York this can be our lives all the time - getting rush tickets to shows or winning lotteries.”

Rachel looked down, toying with the end of her hair. “Yeah,” she said lightly. “Anyway, you should help me figure out what to wear to the performance.”

Kurt was never one to say no to a makeover, so he gladly rifled through the many options in Rachel’s closet, using the built-in changing room to have her try on different outfits and accessories. When Kurt pulled a long-sleeved, green velvet dress off of the rack, Rachel said, “Oh, I met the guy who made that one! Laurent Favero. He came and took my measurements because he’s designing my gown for the Foundation Day Ball.”

The ball would be taking place about halfway through Kurt’s time in Genovia.The annual event didn’t actually take place on the anniversary of Genovia’s founding as a principality, but kicked off a week-long celebration. On the actual Foundation Day there would be a ceremony at the palace, serving as the official introduction of Rachel and Blaine to Genovia, after their six months of living in the country and learning the responsibilities of royalty.

“Are you nervous?” Kurt asked as he put the velvet dress back - it was far too heavy for the summer.

Rachel shrugged. “A little. But mostly I’m excited.”

It was hard not to get caught up in the excitement, as they talked about the opera and the ball, about grand events and renowned guests, and Kurt couldn’t believe that by some trick of fate he’d ended up here.

.

“No, I don’t think this is gonna work,” Kurt said, staring up at the huge animal in front of him.

“We can get a stepstool,” Blaine suggested.

“It’s not the height that’s the issue,” Kurt replied. “It’s everything else.”

When Rachel had insisted that they all go on horseback to see the royal orchard, Kurt had been eager for the prospect of wearing riding boots and the associated accessories. Now that he was standing outside the stables, faced with a massive, warmblooded creature that had very sizable teeth and alarmingly defined muscles, though, he wasn’t so sure about it.

“But Kurt,” Rachel whined, already seated upon her own steed. “Getting to the orchard by horse is faster and so much prettier than taking a car.”

The horse that Kurt was supposed to ride made a snorting sound, and Kurt flinched backward. “Maybe you should go without me, then.”

“I know,” Blaine said, sliding off of his horse and hitting the dirt with a muted thud. “You can ride with me.”

Kurt turned to face him, a little hesitant to let the horse out of his line of sight. “What?”

Blaine patted the side of his horse. “Alfonso is super gentle and relaxed, and there’s room for two in the saddle. You can ride behind me, you’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Well…” Kurt said, examining Blaine’s horse. It did seem rather placid, and Blaine had appeared very much in control when he’d taken the horse for a few laps around the corral. “Okay, we can try that.”

The stable attendant that had been helping them took Kurt’s horse away, and Kurt hoisted himself onto Alfonso instead. Blaine followed suit, careful not to kick Kurt as he threw his leg over the saddle. Then, all the sudden, Kurt was right against Blaine, and he felt his cheeks heat.

“Just hold on to my waist,” Blaine instructed. “We won’t go too fast.”

Kurt gingerly wrapped his arms around Blaine’s ribs, but as soon as Blaine nudged the horse forward Kurt tightened his grip. His fear of falling off superseded any embarrassment about touching Blaine.

The ride through the palace grounds was indeed very beautiful. They rode past gardens and greenhouses, through rolling fields with the occasional grazing livestock. Kurt’s knees brushed against the backs of Blaine’s thighs, and he was so close that he could smell Blaine - his hair product and deodorant and the hint of sweat. Once he got used to the jostle of the horse as it cantered along, he grew comfortable in his position. He felt the urge to press his face into the back of Blaine’s neck, to feel that strip of exposed skin - but he refrained, glancing to the side to focus on the breathtaking landscape instead of the boy in front of him.

The orchards were lovely - acres of orderly fruit trees, providing shade from the bright sunlight. Rachel and Blaine guided the horses to a particular section where the trees were heavy with fruit, and they all dismounted. Kurt stumbled slightly upon hitting the ground, his muscles unused to the particular strain of balancing on top of a moving animal - but Blaine caught him by the arm, helping to steady him.

Rachel unzipped her saddlebag and pulled out a blanket for them to sit on, along with the lunch they’d packed, and they wandered through the trees to pick fresh apricots and plums to supplement their meal. They talked and laughed as they ate - Kurt and Rachel told stories about McKinley and the New Directions, and Blaine shared anecdotes about his own school choir, which seemed absurd and overdramatic in its own ways.

Eventually Rachel wandered away to get some photos of the trees. Kurt reclined back on the blanket, looking up at the way the dappled afternoon light shone against Blaine’s face. He looked like…well, he looked like Prince Charming.

“Do you miss performing?” Kurt asked him.

Blaine blinked, bringing Kurt’s attention to his long eyelashes, then looked down at Kurt. “Yeah, I guess so. Rachel and I find plenty of opportunities to make music, though.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “What I miss most, really, is my friends. Although we would have been parting ways now, anyway, graduating and going off to college.”

Although Kurt knew, logically, that as Rachel’s twin Blaine would have been in the same grade as them, he’d never thought about how that also meant Blaine was college-going age. “Are you going to go to school somewhere?” Kurt asked. “Are there any universities in Genovia? Or are you going back to the States?”

Blaine glanced away, picking up a discarded plum stem and worrying it between his fingers. “That is an excellent question.” After a moment he sighed, meeting Kurt’s eyes again. “I got into NYU’s music program, actually.”

“NYU?” Kurt exclaimed, propping himself up on his elbow. “Blaine, that’s amazing! You’ll be in New York just like me and Rachel!”

Blaine shrugged, not reflecting any of Kurt’s enthusiasm. “Maybe. I applied early decision last fall, before any of this…royalty stuff was discovered.”

Kurt felt his chest seize up, crestfallen. “And that - changes your decision?”

Blaine took a deep breath before answering. “It makes the decision more complicated,” he said. “I get the very strong impression that the Genovian royal court would prefer for me to stay here.”

“But Rachel’s going to New York,” Kurt argued. “Why would they pressure you to stay and not her?”

Blaine tossed the plum stem aside. “I don’t know. Residual sexism? I am legally older than her by a few minutes, so if it really came down to it I’d inherit the throne before her.”

Kurt was momentarily hit with incredulity that this was his life, and he was actually discussing how the line of succession of a European nation-state would affect someone he knew personally. He shook his head. “They can’t make you do anything,” he insisted. “If you want to go to New York, you should go.”

Blaine’s lips curled into a smile - it was small, but still made Kurt feel warm and a little unsteady. “Thanks,” Blaine said, holding his gaze. “And now I know that if I do end up in New York, I’ll get to hang out with you more.”

Kurt stared back at Blaine, feeling utterly speechless as he tried to parse that compliment. Luckily, Rachel returned to them just then and asked Blaine to take a photo of her among the blossoms, saving Kurt from having to think up an appropriate response.

.

The Genovian Opera House was small but lavish, all velvet and polished wood, in hues of red and black and gold. Rachel, Blaine, and Kurt were given an in-depth backstage tour when they arrived, guided by the Arts Council director. Seeing the racks of costumes and tables of props and orchestra pit sparked a sort of excited buzzing in Kurt’s chest - it reminded him of all the performances he’d taken part in throughout high school, the adrenaline and anxiety and thrill of being just about to go on stage and create magic in front of an audience. He couldn’t wait for this to be his whole life.

Afterwards they were escorted to the Royal Box, where they reunited with Queen Cybille and several other noble families in attendance.

“Oh, there you are,” the queen said to Blaine and Rachel, gesturing them forward. “Let us make introductions. This is Lord and Lady Saint James, and their son Jesse.” The elegant, dark-haired couple greeted them politely. Their son gave a cordial “Hello, Your Highness,” to Blaine, but then paused as he met Rachel’s eyes. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess Rachel,” he said, taking Rachel’s hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You are just as dazzling in person as in photographs.”

Rachel smiled demurely, and Kurt tried not to gag.

The queen left Rachel behind with Jesse and guided Blaine to the other guests in the box - Lord Motta and his daughter Sugar. Sugar gave them a bouncing curtsy and exclaimed, “Oh my god!  You’re the cute, compact new prince everyone is talking about! You’ll have to come to my villa sometime, I can show you what being a royal is really about.”

Blaine responded politely and vaguely, not committing to any particular social engagements, and Kurt tried not to fidget impatiently. What was this, anyway, some kind of elaborate matchmaking party?

As Kurt glanced over his shoulder to see Jesse and Rachel in close conversation, while the queen looked on serenely, he realized that it probably was. This was what royals did, wasn’t it? Set up arranged marriages to continue their noble lineage?

Kurt turned back to glare more intensely at Sugar, but fortunately the house lights flickered, breaking up any further conversation.

They were ushered to their seats, with Kurt between Blaine and Rachel - and, annoyingly, each of their prospective suitors on their other sides. Determined to wrest Blaine’s attention away from Sugar, Kurt leaned on their shared armrest and asked, “What was it you were saying about Oscar Wilde when we were backstage?”

Just as Blaine turned to him, though, the lights dimmed. Blaine shot him an apologetic smile as the audience quieted and focused on the stage.

Kurt slumped back against his seat. As soon as the overture began, though, he felt a sort of - thrumming intensity, between himself and Blaine. He couldn’t explain it, but as the music swelled and rose around them, he felt as though the air between them was energized, poised, anticipatory. Was it just the dark room and the emotional songs playing out on stage that was drawing him to Blaine like a magnet? Did Blaine feel it too?

The opera they were seeing was being performed in Italian, so Kurt had little hope of understanding the details of the story. And with all his attention on his proximity to Blaine, he could barely even track the movements of the colorfully-costumed dancers in front of them.

There was a song that was particularly heart-wrenching, though, a moment of the most concentrated emotional potency, when Kurt couldn’t take his eyes off the woman singing her heart out. As her voice wove around them, Kurt detected some movement, a disturbance in the staticky field between him and Blaine. And then warm fingers were sliding against his own, where his hand lay on the armrest, Blaine lacing their hands together.

Kurt turned his head and saw Blaine looking back at him. The theater was so dim, but he could make out Blaine’s eyes, the soft features of his face. They held their gaze, and Kurt didn’t know what was happening but he knew it was something, that their hands felt so right together and their eyes were meant to meet and their faces were so close -

A cymbal in the orchestra crashed deafeningly and Kurt flinched, pulling away. Blaine’s hand slipped out of his, and the moment was broken. Kurt massaged his own palm, still feeling the echo of Blaine’s skin warm against his own.

Kurt forced himself to stare at the stage, his heart beating as though he’d just run a marathon.

When the opera was finished they all applauded. As soon as the lights came up Sugar was pulling Blaine out of his seat, chattering on about having to show him her father’s car. Kurt watched them go, and so he saw when Blaine looked back - just for a moment - and met Kurt’s eyes with an unreadable expression.

.

For the next week, Blaine staunchly avoided Kurt. They still saw each other plenty - they ate meals and played games together, went on outings around the palace grounds or into Pyris - but always with Rachel or other visitors along. Blaine was friendly to Kurt, still talking to him in group conversations and laughing at his jokes, but he deftly avoided any chance of just the two of them being alone.

Kurt’s frustration grew with each day, until he couldn’t help being short and brusque with Blaine, not meeting his eyes and refusing to engage in conversation with him. It hurt to be so thoroughly brushed off after the closeness that they’d been building since Kurt arrived. That moment at the opera had meant something, Kurt was sure of it, and he hated that Blaine seemed to be acting like it had never happened.

One evening Rachel walked Kurt back to his room, and once they’d reached the doorway she asked, “Are you mad at Blaine or something?”

He was definitely mad at something. “No,” he told her.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting really weird around him.”

Kurt sighed, shifting the door partially closed so it served as a barrier between them. “He started ignoring me first, why don’t you ask your brother about it?”

“Kurt -” Rachel called out, but he shut the door firmly, cutting off any further discussion.

With Blaine giving him the cold shoulder, Kurt distracted himself by preparing for the Foundation Day Ball. He had bought some formalwear on the crown’s dime when they’d gone shopping in Pyris, but he wanted to tailor it to his measurements and add some personal touches. The house staff had very helpfully provided him with a sewing machine, and he spent hours designing and tweaking and altering until his suit was exactly how he wanted it: stylish but unique, elegant while still standing out.

The evening of the ball arrived, and the castle buzzed with activity. Once Kurt was dressed he went to Rachel’s room, where half a dozen stylists whirled around the princess. The designer of her dress, a man so extremely tall and thin he resembled a toothpick, guided several assistants through arranging Rachel’s dress, making sure the fabric would flow just right. Another stylist did her hair and makeup, while the queen’s assistant delivered instructions on which pieces of jewelry Rachel should wear.

Once Rachel’s appearance was universally approved, they were escorted to the ballroom. Kurt and Rachel parted ways so that Kurt could enter through the main doors, while the royals waited to be announced and admired as they descended the grand staircase that occupied the far end of the room.

The ballroom was already crowded with guests decked out in finery. Kurt didn’t think he’d ever seen so many precious jewels in one place. His past few weeks in Genovia had made him somewhat accustomed to being in esteemed company, but this event was in a realm of its own, having attracted notable guests from all over Western Europe. He accepted a glass of sparkling cider from a waiter, then stood at the edge of the ballroom, internally passing judgment on everyone’s outfits as he waited for Rachel to arrive.

The room quieted when the herald at the far doors tapped his staff authoritatively. As the ornate doors began to open, he called out, “Her Royal Highness, Princess Rachel Barbra Berry Renaldo.”

Rachel entered, looking elegant and - well, royal. The cream-and-gold dress suited her perfectly, and she gave a slight, regal smile to the observing crowd. Her princess lessons, combined with her natural stage presence, had prepared her excellently for the occasion.

As she neared the foot of the staircase, the herald’s voice boomed again: “His Royal Highness, Prince Blaine Devon Anderson Renaldo.”

When Blaine entered, Kurt felt like all the air was sucked out of his lungs.

The cut of his suit emphasized his broad shoulders and trim waist, the sleek black fabric a contrast to his light skin. Silver sparkled in his cufflinks, and knotted at his neck was a silky silver bow tie. He was handsome and debonair and perfect.

Kurt vaguely heard the herald introduce the queen, felt the crowd ripple around him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Blaine while he descended the stairs. And just as Blaine reached Rachel and swept his eyes around the room, his gaze met Kurt’s.

They stared at each other, and it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

As soon as the queen joined them, though, Blaine and Rachel were surrounded by guests and admirers, nobles and business magnates and friends of the crown. Kurt recognized some faces from previous dinners and social events he’d attended - he noticed with irritation that Sugar Motta was there, hovering around them.

The small orchestra arranged in one corner began to play a waltz, and Blaine and Rachel initiated the dancing. They spent the first several measures alone as they stepped elegantly about the dancefloor together, before a gesture from the queen encouraged other pairs to join in. Kurt got intermittent glances at the royal twins, his view often blocked by other dancers. He couldn’t push down the wave of envy that rose in his stomach.

After the first dance, the prince and princess were separated, paired off with new partners. Kurt watched Rachel struggle through a song with a much older, rather uncoordinated aristocrat, then glide along with a younger man who she seemed content to make polite conversation with. For her fourth dance she found herself in the arms of Jesse Saint James, and appeared very glad to be there.

Kurt focused on Rachel and sipped his drink, trying to enjoy the music and ambiance, but he couldn’t avoid the occasional glimpse of Blaine - always dancing, always with a girl. One after another after another, a friendly smile always on his face.

“And what is a young one like you doing hiding in a corner?” asked a voice to Kurt’s left, slightly accented as many Genovians were when speaking English.

Kurt turned to see Laurent Favero, the designer of Rachel’s dress, holding a cocktail and looking down at Kurt with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t feel like dancing,” Kurt replied. This was a lie - he would have happily danced with Rachel, if she wasn’t having various noble men shoved at her between every song. And more than anything he’d have liked to dance with Blaine, but Blaine’s behavior over the past week had made it abundantly clear that that would never be an option.

Favero continued to stare at him, looking increasingly confused. “What is this you are wearing?” he asked. “I noticed in the princess’s rooms, it is very unusual.”

“Oh,” Kurt said, glancing down at himself. His suit jacket evoked a century-old style, shorter in the front with tails behind, and he’d accented it with gold brocade and buttons. He’d also lined the inside with a silky deep blue fabric - which didn’t necessarily have any historical basis, but he knew he looked good in it, and it matched the blue ascot tie fastened at the base of his neck. “Well, I bought the suit in Pyris, and then made some alterations.”

“You did this?” the man asked, gesturing broadly to Kurt’s torso.

“Yes,” Kurt said. “I was inspired by formal wear from the belle epoch, as well as Continental court dress.”

Favero seemed to appraise him, then reached into an inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a white business card. “How long are you in Genovia?”

“A few more weeks,” Kurt replied, taking the offered card.

He clicked his tongue. “A shame. You have a good eye and a creative mind. You ever decide you want to stay here, call me about an apprenticeship, eh?”

Kurt stared at him, incredulous. “Uh, yes, monsieur. Thank you so much.” 

The designer hummed in acknowledgement, and then drifted off into the crowd. Kurt stood stunned for a moment, and as he turned away from Favero’s retreating figure, his eyes once again alighted on Blaine - who was just then giving a polite bow to Miss Motta before placing his hand on her waist.

Kurt spun around and headed for the other side of the room, towards a barely-ajar glass door that led outside. He desperately needed some fresh air.

It was dark outside when he stepped onto the balcony, ensconced lights along the wall throwing off a yellowish glow, the sky a multitude of stars. Kurt set his empty glass on a decorative table and went to lean over the railing, looking at the flower gardens below and letting the gentle breeze cool him off.

He hadn’t really known what visiting Genovia would be like, before he arrived, but he certainly couldn’t have anticipated any of this. He was glad to see Rachel, after so long away from his friend, and he couldn’t deny how lucky he was to have experienced so many incredible things through his association with the royal family.

And then there was Blaine, who he liked so very much, and who had seemed, at first, to like him back. Kurt didn’t care whether he was a prince or not - he’d loved discovering who Blaine was in small, private moments, underneath the absurdity of his current situation. With every interaction he’d learned more about how kind and talented and passionate and generous Blaine was.

But it seemed now that even a friendship with Blaine was out of reach, let alone anything else.

“Kurt?”

Kurt turned around to see Blaine standing behind him, bracketed by the light spilling out from the ballroom. “Oh, hi.”

Blaine tilted his head. “Mind if I join you?”

Kurt shrugged. “It’s your castle.”

Blaine exhaled and stepped forward, leaning against the railing next to Kurt. They didn’t speak for a moment, surrounded by the muted noise of music and conversation and the chirping of crickets.

“I’m really sorry,” Blaine said softly. “I know I’ve been distant, the past few days. You didn’t do anything wrong, Kurt, I just - I needed some time to think.”

Kurt turned towards him, feeling his foolish heart warm with hope. “To think about what?”

Blaine spread his hands out against the railing. “You know when I told you that making a choice, about NYU and Genovia, was complicated?” He turned to look at Kurt, his expression rueful. “Well, meeting you…has added a new complication.”

Kurt scoffed. “Wow, I’m flattered.”

“Kurt, no,” Blaine said earnestly, reaching out and gripping Kurt’s hand. Kurt gasped at the sudden contact, the same spark of feeling he’d experienced at the opera. “What I mean is - you’re incredible, and I love being around you, and I want -” he cut himself off with a frustrated groan. “Look, I know what the crown wants from me, even if they haven’t actually said it in so many words. They want me to stay in Genovia and learn to be a good figurehead, to get married to some noble woman and have kids so the throne has more heirs and Genovia stays independent. And I’ve known from the start that I can’t actually do that, but - I thought I had more time to figure it out. I thought I could take things slow and get more settled before I stopped hiding the truth. But then you showed up.” Blaine gave him a helpless smile. “And you’re you, and you’re amazing, and I just - I don’t want to be with any of those girls, Kurt. I want to be with you.”

Kurt blinked, overwhelmed by the intensity of Blaine’s gaze and the rapid beating of his heart. “Really?” he asked.

Blaine nodded, and he used their joined hands to tug Kurt away from the railing. Inside, the orchestra had just started a new song, lilting and melodic. Blaine opened his other arm. “May I have this dance?”

Kurt let out an unexpected laugh, surprised and delighted. “You may.”

So he stepped into Blaine’s embrace, holding onto his shoulder and feeling Blaine’s hand settle on his waist. Blaine was warm against him, and so close that Kurt could hear the nervous flutter of his breath as they began to dance.

They moved artfully around the balcony, Kurt following Blaine’s lead. They worked together perfectly - every time one of them stumbled or misstepped, the other would adjust to accommodate it, continuing on uninterrupted.

“You look amazing, by the way,” Blaine said softly. “Rachel told me that you made your own suit. Is there anything you can’t do?”

Kurt grinned. “You clean up rather well yourself, Your Highness.”

Blaine scoffed at the title. “I have to be a prince with everyone else. Can’t I just be myself with you?”

“Of course,” Kurt insisted. “Always, Blaine.”

The music faded away, and they stilled. “I love hearing you say my name,” Blaine whispered, but they were so close Kurt could hear every word.

“Blaine,” Kurt said again, and then Blaine was leaning imperceptibly forward and pressing their lips together.

It was somehow like every fairy tale coming true - this kiss could have broken a centuries-old curse, waking a comatose sleeper or turning a frog into a prince. It was the simplest of physical gestures, just Blaine’s lips moving against his own, but it filled Kurt with so much feeling he thought he might burst.

When it ended, Blaine blinked, seeming dazed, and Kurt was glad to know that he wasn’t the only one who felt like he’d been put under a spell.

“Come back inside,” Blaine entreated softly. “I know Rachel will want to dance with you, and - it’ll be so much more fun if you’re in there with us.”

Kurt was loath to step out of Blaine’s embrace. “Are you sure we can’t stay here and keep kissing?” he asked.

Blaine laughed, a blush playing on his cheeks. “Not now. But definitely more soon, right?”

Kurt nodded resolutely. “Yes,” he said. With that promise of more to come, he found the strength to pull away from Blaine and walk back into the ballroom.

.

The following days were busy with Foundation Day events and celebrations, but Kurt and Blaine managed to spend nearly every free moment together. They stayed up late talking and watching movies, they wandered the castle grounds, and one evening Kurt commandeered a corner of the kitchen to walk Blaine through baking some of his favorite pastries.

They were walking back towards Kurt’s room when they turned a corner and found themselves face-to-face with Rachel.

“Oh, hi!” she exclaimed. She glanced between the two boys and then said, “Have you two made up? It seems like you’re spending a lot of time together.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow at Kurt, barely concealing a smile.

“Yes, Rachel,” Kurt said. “We’ve made up.”

“Thank goodness!” she said, leaping forward to pull them into an ungainly group hug. “I don’t think I could stand it if my best friend and my brother didn’t like each other.”

“We like each other plenty,” Blaine said, catching Kurt’s eye.

“I’m glad,” Rachel said, disentangling herself from them. As she stepped back, Kurt noticed that she was wearing a jacket, and seemed to have lipgloss on.

“What are you up to?” he asked her.

“Oh, just going for a walk,” she said breezily.

Blaine narrowed his eyes. “It’s pretty late for that.”

“I’ll be quick,” Rachel insisted, already pushing past them. “I just want some fresh air and relaxation after all the socializing lately. I’ll see you two in the morning, okay!”

With that, she disappeared around the corner.

“That was odd,” Blaine commented.

“It’s Rachel,” Kurt said, by way of explanation. “If she’s up to something, we’ll find out about it eventually.” He glanced down the corridor to make sure they were alone, then took Blaine’s hand. “You wanna watch something before we go to sleep?”

Blaine grinned. “I’d love to.”

So they retreated to Kurt’s guest room, set up a laptop to play Roman Holiday, and ate some of the cookies they’d baked, still warm from the oven. And when they kissed goodnight, they both tasted of chocolate chips.

.

The annual Foundation Day Charity Auction was a lively event, bringing notable Genovians and friends of the state to an outdoor luncheon at one of the palace’s gardens, in order to donate and bid on items, with the proceeds going towards various non-profits in the region.

Kurt was seated at a table with the royal family, along with several other nobles. When they arrived the queen directed them to particular table settings. While Kurt was thankfully next to Rachel, he scowled as Queen Cybille separated him and Blaine, instead seating the prince next to the daughter of a duchess.

Throughout the whole event, the queen seemed to be pushing the two of them together - making comments like “oh, Blaine, tell Harmony about your riding lessons!” and “Harmony’s an impressive performer herself, perhaps you two could sing together sometime,” and “the desserts today are very rich, it might be best if the two of you shared one.”

Kurt could feel his blood pressure increasing with every comment, and even Rachel seemed mildly annoyed by it.

The auction itself was a success, and when Kurt wasn’t fixating on the obvious setup happening across the table, he thoroughly enjoyed the food. In the slight chaos of the event’s conclusion, with guests leaving their tables to mingle and schmooze, Kurt managed to pull Blaine aside, stepping behind a topiary bush to stay out of sight.

“I know, I’m sorry -” Blaine was already saying.

“It’s okay,” Kurt cut him off. “I know it wasn’t your fault. But Blaine…what are you going to do? You’re being presented to the country in two days. Have you made a decision about New York? Are you going to tell anyone?”

Blaine closed his eyes for a moment. “I know, you’re right. I - I want to tell the truth, Kurt. I don’t want to hide the way I feel about you. And I want to go to New York. I just - I have to muster the courage to speak up. But I will.”

Kurt took Blaine’s hand and held it tightly, trying to reassure him. “Okay. I just want you to do what’s best for you, whatever that decision is. Let me know if I can help.” It seemed like an ineffective offer, but it was all he could say. He’d seen the harassment and surveillance that Rachel had endured when her royal status had been revealed. He didn’t want Blaine to go through any more of that kind of strife - but he also didn’t want Blaine to feel that he had to hide his identity or sacrifice his own wishes for the sake of propriety.

Blaine nodded gratefully. “You’re the best. How did I get so lucky?”

Kurt smiled. “I don’t know, I had a prince fall for me, I think I might be the lucky one.”

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand and then let go. “We’d better get back out there.”

Kurt nodded, and they returned to the crowd, putting on polite smiles to mask any uncertainty or worry.

.

Kurt was woken up the next morning by a firm, even knocking at his door. He blearily stumbled out of bed and opened the door, revealing a member of the house staff.

“Sorry, Monsieur Hummel,” she said, “your presence is requested in the throne room.”

Kurt blinked. “Um, okay. Merci.”

He rapidly got dressed, wondering what on earth was going on. 

Kurt had seen the throne room on his initial tour with Rachel, but hadn’t had reason to return since. It was a cavernous chamber, with a tiled marble floor and decorative columns along the walls. The space was lit with several ornate chandeliers, and in the center of the ceiling was a Renaissance-style fresco. At the far end of the room, a huge Genovian flag hung from the wall behind the throne, and smaller flags of the different Genovian regions lined the sides of the room.

There were already numerous people there when he arrived. The queen sat on the gilded throne, her posture perfect, but she didn’t look overly solemn. Her assistant was poised next to her, and several other officials and castle employees that Kurt recognized were standing around the room. Just in the front of the throne stood Rachel, with Blaine several feet away off to her side.

Kurt caught Blaine’s eye as he entered, and Blaine shrugged at him, looking somewhat alarmed.

“Well, Rachel,” the queen said, pulling the attention of everyone in the room. “I believe everyone is now assembled. Pray tell, what inspired this impromptu gathering?”

This was Rachel’s doing? Kurt stared at her quizzically as she glanced around the room, then faced the queen directly as she began to speak.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I have an announcement to make. As you all know, Blaine and I will be presented to the country tomorrow morning. I know this is largely ceremonial, but I also feel it’s important that we establish how things will move forward from that introduction, and the particular responsibilities and commitments that we’ll take on as heirs to the throne.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ve decided to defer my acceptance to NYADA and remain in Genovia for at least the coming year.”

Kurt gasped, unable to help himself. The room around him murmured, but he couldn’t pay attention to anyone else’s reaction. Rachel wasn’t coming to New York? She’d decided to abandon her dream school - not to mention leave Kurt to move to the city on his own?

The queen nodded slowly as she took in this information. “We thank you for telling us, that is quite a significant decision. We’ll be happy to have your presence for longer than anticipated.”

“I appreciate that,” Rachel said, “but I’m not done. I strongly believe that Blaine should return to America to pursue his education.”

Kurt immediately glanced at Blaine, whose eyes had widened at Rachel’s words.

“I was not aware that Blaine had made a definitive choice on that topic,” the queen said.

“I’m simply providing my opinion,” Rachel stated, “but I think this arrangement will be satisfactory for everyone.” Through his incredulity, Kurt managed to roll his eyes - of course Rachel would charge forward with something like this assuming she had all the right answers. “I’ve loved spending the past several months in Genovia, and I’m excited at the prospect of taking on any necessary duties of an heir to the throne. I can fulfill any need that Blaine would otherwise have been expected to. Meanwhile, he deserves the freedom to do what he really wants, and be who he really is, without being restrained by the crown.”

At the phrase be who he really is, Kurt glanced at Blaine’s shocked face. She knew, somehow. And he thought he and Blaine had been discreet.

The room was quiet in the wake of Rachel’s speech. After a moment, the queen spoke. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Rachel. The crown appreciates your forthrightness.” She looked around the room and addressed the rest of her audience. “There is still much to be done for the ceremony tomorrow, and I trust you are all busy. You are dismissed. Blaine, if you would stay back, please?”

Kurt saw Blaine swallow and nod. Everyone else in the room walked towards the doors. Kurt was rooted in his spot, staring at Blaine, confused and worried and hopeful. He moved only when Rachel reached him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the room.

“What the hell was that?” Kurt asked her as they stepped into the hallway.

“I know,” she whispered at him, tugging him further away from the other people exiting the room. “I overheard you two in the garden yesterday. I know about you two, and I know that Blaine would rather go to New York.”

Kurt pulled his hand out of her grasp as they turned a corner, still unsure how mad at her he was. “And what about you? How could you give up NYADA? We were supposed to take on New York together, get to Broadway together!”

“I know,” Rachel said, and she at least had the courtesy to be a little apologetic. “But Kurt - I really like it here. And I want to learn to be an actual ruler, to use my power to help people. Plus, I could help develop Genovia’s theater scene! Since the crown funds a lot of the arts, I’d have so much influence and such a big budget. If those credentials won’t help me break into Broadway, I don’t know what will!”

Kurt scoffed. “Rachel -”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” she interrupted. “Ever since the start of summer. I just didn’t know how to tell you. But hearing you and Blaine talking yesterday - it gave me the push I needed to speak up about it. And maybe help out Blaine, at the same time.”

Kurt looked at his friend, and all of his anger melted away. “I didn’t know this trip would be the last time I saw you for…who knows how long.”

She smiled softly. “I know. But I have access to a private jet now. I can definitely come visit New York.”

Kurt laughed. “Of course, how could I forget?” He glanced down the hallway, towards the entrance to the throne room, and his nervousness returned. “What do you think is happening in there?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel replied simply. “Do you want to wait for Blaine in his room?”

Once they reached Blaine’s quarters, Rachel sat on the windowsill as Kurt paced nervously across the floor. He’d spent a lot of time within these walls over the past week - talking, watching movies, cuddling and kissing on Blaine’s bed. It had felt safe and warm, their own little world. He hoped that it wasn’t all about to be ruined somehow.

The door swung open, and Blaine stepped in. He blinked when he saw the two of them staring back at him.

“Is everything okay?” Kurt asked, as Rachel simultaneously said, “What did she say to you?”

“It’s okay,” Blaine assured them. “It’s okay.”

Kurt stepped forward to pull Blaine into a hug. Behind him, Rachel demanded, “Well what did she say?”

Blaine led Kurt to his bed and perched on the mattress, facing Rachel. “We just talked, and…I told her the truth, about everything. And she apologized. She said if she’d known, she would have done things differently. She still says it’s best for one of us to stay in Genovia, but if you’re really willing to, Rachel - then I can go to NYU.”

Rachel stepped forward and sat on Blaine’s other side, taking his hand. “I’m not just willing, Blaine. I want to be here. And I want you to be happy.” She leaned forward so she could meet Kurt’s eye. “Both of you.”

“I’m actually going to New York,” Blaine said, a little disbelieving.

Kurt nudged their shoulders together. “We’re both going to New York,” he pointed out, feeling giddiness bubble in his chest.

Rachel hugged Blaine, then stood. “I’ll leave you two alone. I have a lot of preparation to do before tomorrow anyway.” She bounced out of the room, already humming to herself happily.

“How are you feeling?” Kurt asked.

“I - don’t know,” Blaine said. “I’m feeling a lot. But mostly just - good. Very, very good.”

Kurt gave him a coy smile. “So, if we’re both going to be in New York…that means that we don’t have to say goodbye, when I leave Genovia.”

Blaine grinned back. “No, no goodbyes. Just a brief ‘see you later.’ A temporary ‘au revoir.’”

Kurt took a breath, steeling himself. “And once we’re in New York, we can…keep doing this? Being together?”

Blaine turned to Kurt, taking both of his hands. “I want to be with you. And I’m not going to hide you, Kurt. Even if there’s no big, official announcement, I’m not going to pretend to be someone I’m not. But…it probably won’t be easy. I’m unfortunately sort of a public figure now. I might not be the most fun person to date. I don’t want you thrust into the spotlight if you don’t want that.”

Kurt shook his head. “I’ve been hoping for a spotlight for years, might as well get used to it. And I’m not going to hide who I am, either. Or how I feel about you.”

Blaine leaned his forehead against Kurt’s. “I’m going to have a security detail, like all the time.”

“Like all the time?” Kurt teased.

“Practically all the time,” Blaine replied.

Kurt shifted their faces so that their lips brushed when he spoke. “We’ll find some time for ourselves.”

And then they were kissing, and this was real, and it was only the start of something wonderful.

.

Kurt thought that he’d gotten used to pomp and spectacle over the past several weeks, but the crowning ceremony blew everything else out of the water.

It was Foundation Day, marking one hundred and ninety-seven years of Genovia’s sovereignty. Kurt was in the throne room, seated with the rest of the audience - comprised of the 300 most-important Genovians, all nobles or parliament members or other extremely distinguished people, all in their absolute finest dress. They faced the thrones - three of them, one for each of the three living Renaldos. A cardinal in a very tall hat was there to direct the proceedings, with the prime minister participating as well. Off to the side was a musical ensemble, there to provide accompaniment throughout the event. Cameras and microphones were set up throughout the room, to broadcast the ceremony to every home in Genovia. 

If it wasn’t for the television equipment, Kurt might believe that he’d been transported a couple centuries into the past. At the front of the room, the three royals appeared as if they themselves had been present on the day of Genovia’s founding. Blaine wore a white, double-breasted coat with gold buttons and epaulets. A sash of deep green - the principal color of Genovia’s flag - cut across his chest. Rachel’s dress was a matching green with gold accents, while the queen sat in the center with a gown of a deep, regal maroon.

The ceremony was brief but precise, and performed entirely in French, so Kurt got only a basic idea of what was being said. The cardinal placed a gold, gem-studded crown on Blaine’s head, and then one on Rachel’s. Once they were both crowned, Rachel stood and approached the microphone in the center of the room.

“It is a great honor to be here, and to receive this crown,” she said solemnly. “I may seem unfamiliar to you all now, but I promise that in no time, Princess Rachel Berry Renaldo will be a familiar and well-loved name.” She paused between each sentence, so that an interpreter could repeat her words in French. “My whole life, I have been searching for…something special. A place that would allow me to be my best self, and to share what I have to offer with the world. I have found many of outlets for that, but little did I know that my true destiny was waiting for me on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

“I never knew Prince Oliver, but I have been lucky enough to read, hear, and see the things he accomplished, and to try understanding the person he was. I know I have very big shoes to fill by stepping into this royal family. But my fathers, who adopted me, raised me to be hard-working and passionate. I am determined to use my skills to serve Genovia, to keep this country independent, maintain the things that make it special, and continually strive for an even better future.

“I have loved every minute that I’ve spent in Genovia. Even when things have been challenging or overwhelming, I have always been certain that they were worth it. Every new place I’ve seen, and every new person I’ve met here, has reinforced the fact that being here is the right thing for me.

“My brother Blaine and I both had plans to return to the United States to pursue higher education. I have decided instead to remain in Genovia, continuing my training in diplomacy and leadership and taking on new responsibilities in order to further integrate myself into Genovian culture. Blaine will be in constant contact with myself and the crown, and will make frequent visits to continue fulfilling his role as prince. We are both humbled and grateful to receive these titles, and to serve the Genovian people. Thank you.”

The room erupted into applause, and Rachel bowed her head slightly before returning to her throne.

Blaine’s public comments were much shorter, emphasizing the points Rachel already made, expressing commitment and appreciation. Once he finished speaking, everyone stood as the band played the Genovian national anthem, and the whole room sang along.

After the cameras stopped rolling and the ceremony was complete, there was a banquet set up in the ballroom for all the attendees. Kurt was seated at a table with several other teenagers and young adults, all related to Genovian nobility in some way. He was disappointed that he couldn’t be with Blaine and Rachel, but pleasantly surprised when Sugar Motta not only recognized him, but immediately began peppering him with friendly questions about life in America. 

Blaine appeared at his side once the meal was over and mingling was appropriate. As they sat there talking, Blaine nodded his head towards a corner of the room. Kurt glanced in that direction and saw Rachel, standing extremely close to a familiar figure: Jesse Saint James. As Kurt watched them, Rachel laughed loudly and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“So that’s why she really wanted to stay in Genovia,” Kurt quipped.

Blaine laughed. “Maybe just a contributing factor. I bet that’s where she was sneaking off to the other night.”

Kurt couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed with Rachel for her secret crush - his happiness left no room for other emotions. The future felt promising and bright, and the present moment was pretty incredible: sitting in the ballroom of a European castle, full of delicious food and surrounded by remarkable people, with Blaine smiling at his side. If a somewhat pompous son of a lord could give Rachel a modicum of the joy Kurt currently felt, he wasn’t going to begrudge her that.

Blaine stood and held his hand out. “Come on, let’s go say hi to them.”

Without hesitation, Kurt took Blaine’s hand.

.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come into the water?” Blaine asked.

Kurt glanced up at his boyfriend’s face, haloed by the bright sunshine above them. “I’m sure. But go ahead, have fun.”

Blaine sent him once last hopeful look before turning and walking away. Kurt lifted his sunglasses slightly to get a clearer view of Blaine as he headed towards the water, admiring the shift of muscles in his bare back.

“Do you need a refill?” Kurt heard Sugar’s voice from beside him. He turned to see her, lounging on the chair next to his, wearing only a bikini, a sarong, and a massive pair of sunglasses. Like Kurt, her body was fully shaded by an umbrella, and she had a short table next to her chair holding an ice-filled glass.

“Not yet,” Kurt said, gesturing to the half-full mocktail on his own table.

“I’m gonna get one,” Sugar said, lifting herself up to wave over the attendant currently manning the bar on the Motta’s back patio.

It was Kurt’s last weekend in Genovia, and they’d all been invited to spend a few days at the Motta property on the Genovian coast. They’d spent plenty of time on the private beach, but also using the Motta’s in-house movie theater and bowling alley, playing on the tennis courts, and getting spa treatments. 

Kurt had been a little hesitant about the trip, but it had turned out delightfully. The first time Sugar noticed him and Blaine cuddling while they’d been having a movie marathon, she’d exclaimed about how adorable they were together. Kurt had discovered that the effusiveness she’d shown Blaine in their previous interactions was just part of Sugar’s personality, not an indication of any romantic interest. While she could still be a bit overwhelming at times, Kurt had been able to enjoy himself much more once it was clear that she wasn’t crushing on his boyfriend.

Also invited on the trip was Jesse, at Rachel’s request. As soon as Kurt confronted her after the crowning ceremony, she’d admitted to her feelings for Jesse. They weren’t dating, per se, but there was something between them, and he’d been a constant figure at the palace over the last few weeks. He got on Kurt’s nerves more often than not, but he could see how Jesse and Rachel were suited for each other. He watched them now, both waist-deep in the ocean, splashing each other and laughing. Ever since the crowning, Rachel had seemed happier and more sure of herself. Kurt was glad that she’d found her place here, even if it meant he wouldn’t be able to share New York with her.

The bartender appeared with a new drink for Sugar. They sat there in amicable silence, paging through magazines and listening to the tide roll in. Kurt tried to enjoy the moment, to savor this experience of luxury and relaxation, but he couldn’t prevent his mind from wandering to the future. In 72 hours, he’d be flying back to Ohio, leaving behind the strange and magical world of Genovia. He knew that he’d be reuniting with Blaine in New York in a matter of weeks, but he also knew that this would still be the end of something. 

Once they were in New York, everything would be different. They’d have to worry about dodging paparazzi and avoiding random fans or critics of European royalty. Plus, any time he and Blaine wanted to go out for a date they’d be supervised by a member of the Genovian Secret Service, which seemed like it would put a damper on the romance. It wasn’t enough that he’d have to balance school and finding a job and making new friends and being a good boyfriend - he’d also have to avoid causing any international diplomatic scandals. He wondered whether the Daily Mail would start making up rumors about their relationship, and whether that kind of publicity would hinder his Broadway career. And what if the paparazzi ever snapped a picture of him on a rare bad hair day?

His thoughts were interrupted when something crashed into his lounge chair, and he looked up from his magazine to see Blaine climbing onto the chair, pushing Kurt’s legs out of the way to take a seat. Kurt rolled his eyes, but adjusted to make room for his boyfriend.

“All done with the ocean?” Kurt asked. Blaine’s whole body was damp, droplets of water clinging to his bare skin. His hair was curling with the water and briney air, and his arms were lined with goosebumps. He was grinning widely, looking disheveled and joyful. He didn’t appear particularly princely, but he looked like Blaine - the compassionate, goofy, brave boy that Kurt had fallen head over heels for.

“Yeah,” Blaine replied, leaning in closer. “It was boring without you, anyway.”

“You boys are too cute!” Sugar squealed. Kurt ignored her outburst as he pressed his lips against Blaines’, tasting the salt from the sea, feeling the warmth of Blaine’s skin.

They may still have had a long road ahead of them, but if this summer had taught Kurt anything, it was that sometimes things really did end happily ever after.

***

royalsofeurope_fashion

❤ 🗨 16,433 likes

royalsofeurope_fashion October 3, 2012 SPOTTED: Prince Blaine of Genovia, walking in Greenwich Village with unidentified friend #princeblaine #princeofgenovia #genovianmonarchy #royalfamily #royalfashion #streetfashion

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heartalso FRIEND??? they are HOLDING HANDS sis stormar wtf lol purple.princess wait is prince blaine gay? called it tbh     beyondthisillusion I mean yeah in that Gap video he is CLEARLY singing to a guy amareo 👀 kayceemarie14 god prince blaine is so dreamy i’m highkey jealous lefthandletter My friend goes to NYU and says she sees Blaine around campus all the time…apparently he always has a bodyguard with him but he’s super friendly micdropmichaela aww good for them sofi221b Get it, boys!! kurthummel @bdarenaldo at least they got my good side bdarenaldo ☑ all your sides are good <3     - View more replies

[therecordchanger62279]

THE SOUND OF LONESOME

My brother went off to college in Dayton, Ohio in the late summer of 1976, and that first year I remember driving down with a friend from Lima to visit him and another friend who was also attending the University of Dayton. We walked down to the Oregon District near downtown Dayton where there were (and still are) a lot of bars and restaurants, and secondhand shops. We stopped in at a little place called The Nite Owl to have a beer and a sandwich and just to talk for awhile. It was the first time all four of us had been together since the summer. I don’t remember what we talked about, but I do remember there was music playing on the stereo system. There was a small stage, but on this night there was no live music, and the place was deserted. I only remember seeing a waitress, and maybe a cook behind the counter.

The music that was playing was a blues record by someone I didn’t recognize, but it was one of those records that gets under your skin. It was just a guy singing and playing the piano very quietly, and it was the perfect music to be listening to in a deserted club at a late hour. I could only see part of the cover of the record sitting by the turntable, but I noticed it had sort of an orange-ish hue, and a photograph of an old truck with a wooden chair visible in the flat bed. We left the place later before I could find out who it was playing these incredible late night blues. But I filed it away in my head to keep an eye out for that album cover whenever I was browsing the blues section in one of the countless record stores I use to frequent.

Fast forward six years later. A National Record Mart store opened in the Lima Mall. It was a tiny shop, but when it opened it was jammed with more records than I’d ever seen in a shop that size in my life. The racks were so full you had to take a few records out of the pocket just to be able to browse the selection. And the selection was as varied as I’d ever seen, and the prices dirt-cheap.

I was in there for more than an hour when I started thumbing through the blues section. I already had an armload of records to take to the counter when I saw it – a cover with a photograph of an old truck, and a wooden chair in the flat bed. I pulled it out and read the name ‘Otis Spann’ with a list of tracks beneath the name on a label that looked to be ‘Archive of Folk Music’. I later discovered that label was actually Everest Records, and they specialized in budget blues, jazz, and folk albums. This one was priced at $2.99, and I was certain it was the same record I’d heard six years earlier at The Nite Owl in Dayton.

I bought the record, and took it home and put it on the turntable. And from the first notes I knew it was the record I’d been looking for. This was the loneliest sounding blues music I’d ever heard. There was only Spann’s voice and piano, and the ambient sound of the studio where it was recorded. That “space” is an essential part of the record because it sounds as if there wasn’t another soul within a hundred mile radius when Otis Spann laid down the sides that wound up on this record. And that’s what resonates when you listen to it.

In the years ahead I discovered that Otis Spann was Muddy Waters’ piano player for most of his career. Spann died at the age of 40 of liver cancer in 1970. He cut a number of solo records during his career, and as far as I can tell (as there are no recording details on the LP), the Everest album was a reissue of a 1963 album Spann cut called Good Morning Mr. Blues on Storyville Records. Everest issued it in 1968 according to a couple of sources, and it was still in print when I found it in 1982. The original LP was issued on CD in 2000 with some additional cuts from the session.

But it’s the LP I treasure most because of the music, and because of the way it became a part of my collection. Sometimes I can’t remember something that happened to me yesterday, but when there’s great music to be discovered, I never forget the details. This self-titled reissue of an LP cut by a sideman in one of the greatest bands in the history of the blues is one of my four favorite blues records of all-time. (The others are West Side Soul by Magic Sam, Hard Again by Muddy Waters, and King of the Delta Blues Singers by Robert Johnson.) That empty rocking chair in the back of the flatbed truck on the cover of the record looks as lonesome as the music on the record inside the sleeve sounds. But the “lonesomest” music makes the best company.

[ufohio]

Welcome to Earth, Where We Just Can’t Keep Our Feet on the Ground!

Citizens of Earth know the score: from the old photographs of biplanes tacked to the wall of the historic bar to the ruby red heads of shiny rockets peeking out from backyards, this city has always been a pilot’s town. 

Established in 1906 as first an airfield for early flight experimentation, and later known as a test pilot’s paradise, the city of Earth, Ohio, stretches across many miles of green parks, tree-lined streets, and exceptionally blue skies. Additional acreage outside city limits includes golden cornfields, plus grazing and woodland. And in and around town, you’ll find many dazzling attractions, shopping and dining, and opportunities for arts and culture. 

No matter what your preference, there’s always something to do in the city of Earth—whether your feet are firmly planted on the ground or your head is in the clouds!

Let us show you around!

PLAY HERE 

From skydiving to hang gliding, rocket rides, and aerial displays … to hot air balloons, jetpacking, kite shows, and private flight lessons, Ohio Earthlings are never starved for recreation—and our skies are always full of wonder. Plus, we have many terrestrial attractions as well! Catch up on some old-world reading at our nationally recognized pulp museum, explore our local hiking trails, or join us for planetside events like antique terrestrial car shows or holiday parades!

SHOP HERE

Our new hover mall offers shoppers everything they could possibly need—from modern furniture displays to antiques, housewares, sporting equipment, televisions, shoes, clothing, and more—all in one convenient overhead location! Earth’s city council firmly believes that in the future, we’ll all be shopping at floating malls with ample hoverparking. And contrary to popular belief, these megastores don’t take anything away from main streets, small businesses, or our local Andromeda Heights neighborhood, which all lie directly beneath this sky behemoth!   

EAT HERE 

There’s no fresher food experience than the one you’ll find in the city of Earth, where many grocers and restaurants are supplied by local agriculture. Even our new autoautomat sources from Liquid Sunshine Farms or Gator Land Ranch, two holdings run entirely by Floridian refugees and responsible for some of the most impressive and flavorful yields our town has ever seen! 

LIVE HERE 

If you lived here, you’d be skydiving, parachuting, or landing a rocket by now. With the influx of space workers as well as Floridians, our city’s population has exploded in the last ten years. Whether you see yourself in the cozy apartments and historic row or multi-family housing of Andromeda Heights, the suburban ranches and sprawling backyards of John’s Glenn, or among the tight-knit prefabs and mobile rocket housing in Luna Park—not to mention our many farmhouses and acreages just outside town—we want to say, “Welcome to Earth!” 

Earth, named one of the country’s Best Hometowns in 2145, continues to be one of Ohio’s most innovative and exciting communities to live, work, and visit.

And rumors of a dwindling main street, small business obsolescence, or disgruntlement from long-time residents over lack of access to the Event Horizon zone are greatly exaggerated…

SNEAK A PEEK AT ONE OF FOUR SUGGESTED THEMES & SUBPLOTS FOR EARTHLINGS...

The Great Rocket Men Invasion… Space workers or “Rocket Men” are persons who work in space but maintain a residence on Earth—such as flight path toll attendants or pilots of 18-thruster vessels—and for the past decade or so, they’ve been moving to Earth, Ohio, in droves. While many Earthlings are welcoming, others are tired of the rapid growth and rising housing costs associated with the population boom. Space men go home!

[the-gone-ton]

A side entrance at the Indiana Mall near the former Bon-Ton. That orange overhang on the left that is designed to look like the crenellations of a castle is an exciting leftover from a beloved 70s and 80s chain restaurant - York Steak House. York Steak House was a chain of cafeteria-style steak restaurants that primarily operated in malls. It was bought by General Mills in 1977 and peaked around 200 restaurants in the early 80s. In 1989, many York Steak Houses disappeared as General Mills shut their corporate owned restaurants, and only independent franchises remained. According to one source, a major franchise of Bonanza Steakhouse bought many York restaurants to convert to the Bonanza name. Before anyone knew what had happened, there was just one York Steak House left - the original location in Columbus, Ohio, which opened in 1966.

[trivialbob]

This afternoon Sheila and I hiked a few miles at a county park. Clouds were as thick as pea soup, and it looked like it could start raining anytime, yet there were a good number of people out there. With winter coming, maybe people who don’t skate or ski are trying to squeeze in some outdoor exercise before the snow arrives. To keep active I used to ride my fat tire bike in the winter. I’ve lost interest in that, so I passed my Surly Pugsley down to Jack. Is there a brightly colored track suit and mall walking in my near future?

On the way home we stopped for groceries at a really nice Hy-Vee in Eagan. Sheila is making Crack Chicken Lasagna for dinner. Ranch dressing and bacon are two ingredients I saw her using. We also stopped at the Hy-Vee liquor store. Tonight is a good night for sitting in front of the fire with hot food and a cocktail.

As she prepared the meal Sheila also made this Bloody Mary for me. For the beer chaser I’m trying Deep Space Brine, a Kölsch from the St. Paul brewery Tin Whiskers, made with locally sourced dill and cucumbers.

The taste and smell of dill in Deep Space Brine is subtle. Don’t worry, I’m not going to use overtones, undertones, bouquet, tobacco, or mahogany as I finish my description. The beer has a smidgen of dill flavor, much like La Croix’s relation with lemon or lime.

Don’t think I’m complaining. Deep Space Brine isn’t bad and none will be wasted.

Every year I need to locate my winter gear. My evening is now complete because I found one of my favorite winter hats. It’s from the 10th annual Fuzzy Fandango trail race in Ohio that Sheila was in last year.

[antifainternational]

So far this year, the International Violent Hate Crimes initiative has documented 209 violent hate crimes/acts of fascist violence that have killed 92 people and injured 774 others, with six more months left in 2020. More resources: -Their map of 2020 violent hate crimes  -Their 2019 report and map -Their 2018 report and map -Their 2017 report Support this research initiative by contributing here. 

[siteeco15]

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Dead Sea

Word Count: 4,317

Characters: Modern AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff

SSB Square Filled: “Why the long face?” (Bolded and Italicized below)

Beta’d by: @shy-violet-soul - what would I do without you?!

A/N: Alright, here it is. My first attempt at MCU Fanfic and hopefully the first of more to come. I really love Bucky’s character and the ways parts of him can be expounded upon. This particular piece was written for @heli0s-writes 2K Challenge. My prompt was the song “Dead Sea” by the Lumineers. I kinda picked it apart and used bits of lyrics within the fic, which are highlighted. This is also the first fic for my @star-spangled-bingo card. Hope you enjoy! I’d love to hear your feedback!

If you’d like to be added to my taglist, send me an ask!

X

Dead Sea

“Why the long face?”

Four words, spoken with casual naivete and a breath of gentle teasing. Bucky froze, the unlit cigarette, now forgotten, dangling between his lips as he looked around for the source of his distraction. His gaze landed on her as she flicked her lighter, bringing the flame to her own cigarette and taking a drag. Her hair itself was like fire, brilliant red and vivid orange dancing around her face in the breeze. She smiled, smoke billowing in delicate tendrils from her nose and mouth as she held the lighter out. 

Bucky blinked, glancing around once again. Surely she was addressing someone else? His eyes narrowed as his search came back empty and he looked at her again.

She wiggled the lighter in his direction and chuckled, the sound electrifying every nerve in his body and making the hair on his arms stand on end. A sound that pure and beautiful should be reserved for...well, anything or anyone except him. Bucky knew he should turn around and go back inside - leave her alone and untainted by his mere existence.

And yet as she watched him patiently, the sun overhead making her eyes and hair sparkle, he silently nodded his thanks and accepted the proffered item. It took a few failed attempts before he successfully ignited the tip of his cigarette and inhaled the bitter smoke, returning the lighter in silence.

“I’m y/n,” she offered, tucking it away again.

Dumbstruck.

It’s not a word Bucky would have used to describe himself in recent years. As a naive, fresh-faced kid 20 years ago? Sure. But a former soldier and recently retired enforcer for a powerful mob back East? Hell no.

And yet, there was no other word to describe it.

Bucky Barnes was dumbstruck.

He took a long drag and exhaled, hoping the cloud of smoke would provide some sort of camouflage as he spoke.

“‘M’name’s Bucky,” he mumbled.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky,” her tone brightening around her widening smile. “I haven’t seen you before. You new?”

Bucky nodded, hiding again behind his antiquated bad habit.

“I work just there,” she gestured behind her, cigarette carefully poised between two fingers. “At the salon. I’m a stylist.”

Bucky jerked his thumb to the door a few places down from where she’d pointed. 

“I just started at the pawn shop.” 

Y/n nodded, taking another drag. 

“You said something. Earlier.” Bucky cleared his throat, his continued socialization a surprise to himself. “What did you say?”

Y/n grinned, sheepishly, dropping the cigarette to the ground and stomping it with the toe of her worn Converse.

“I asked ‘Why the long face?’” Y/n pulled her jacket around her, shielding herself from the chilly gusts of late winter air. “It’s just...well. You looked kinda sad.”

Bucky chuckled, flicking his cigarette away deftly. “I’ve been told that’s just my face.”

Y/n pressed her lips together and narrowed her gaze at him, nodding thoughtfully.

“I appreciate the concern, though.” One side of Bucky’s mouth quirked up, the ghost of the charming ladies-man he’d once been playing over his features.

“I’ll see you around, Bucky.” She laughed to herself once more before ducking her head and retreating toward her shop, the door closing behind her.

I hope so. Bucky thought to himself. I really hope so.

----

The next few weeks passed in much the same way; smoke breaks shared behind the strip mall, shy smiles and quiet comfort found in the low murmuring between them. 

“But why did you leave New York for bumfuck Ohio?” She pressed gently one day, flicking ash into the wind. “This place is just so...boring.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed, having dreaded this question from the moment he put the Empire State in his rearview mirror. The dread compounding even more as the thought of telling her the truth flashed through his mind.

Bucky took another drag before tossing the butt on the ground and stomping it out mercilessly.

“New York lied to me. I needed the truth.” Bucky smirked in self-contempt, the irony heavy on his tongue. It wasn’t entirely false, but it wasn’t the honesty he wished he could give her, either. “Besides, boring isn’t so bad.”

He chanced a look in her direction and found her, nodding thoughtfully as she often did, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. To Bucky, that one gesture felt as though she saw through him, though the feeling wasn’t raw and exposed as he kept anticipating. It felt...reassuring, somehow. Like she saw him as someone he wasn’t even certain he was, and was just biding her time until she could reflect the image back to him. 

“Well, whatever brought you here, Bucky,” she smiled, brushing the neon green and pink hair from her eyes. “I’m really thankful it did.”

Bucky cleared his throat, refusing to look at his watch, as though doing so would deplete their time together faster. 

“What about you? If it’s so boring here, why do you stay?” His tone bordered on teasing, but as soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them.

Y/n blinked rapidly, the edges of her smile crumbling visibly. He could practically see her forcing her facial muscles to keep it place.

“It’s my dad,” her voice was barely a whisper. “He’s sick. Cancer. My mom left ages ago and I’m all he’s got.”

She shrugged, leaving him with more questions than answers. Bucky knew better than most not to press the matter. She never did with him, so he allowed her the same respect.

“I’m sorry.” 

Y/n nodded, a silent acceptance of his sincerity. She took a small step forward - her warmth and vitality crowding his space in all the best ways - and, leaning up, pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Blood roared in Bucky’s ears and his heart thudded against his ribs almost violently. The feel of her chapped lips on his skin lingered as she stepped back.

“Have a good afternoon, Bucky.” She started to walk back inside, but turned to face him again. “You oughta come by sometime, let me get my fingers in that hair of yours.”

Feigning offense, Bucky scoffed, and pushed some of the long strands back over his ears. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

Y/n smiled, a renewed joy in the curve of her lips. “Nothing.”

Bucky watched as she retreated back through the door of the salon, finding himself, once again, dumbstruck.

----

“What about - ” she drew the word out, finger outstretched as she settled on the one she wanted, “that one?”

Bucky chuckled. Of course she would pick that one.

“That one is Vega.”

Bucky turned his head, finding her profile highlighted by the glow of the heavens above. He found her joy intoxicating.

He’d been nervous when he asked if she wanted to do something after work earlier in the day. Nervous and more than a little clumsy, having already convinced himself that she’d turn him down. But she hadn’t. In fact, Bucky thought she almost looked relieved. Though whether it was because she’d hoped he’d ask or because she simply needed a brief reprieve from the responsibility of caring for an ailing father, he wasn’t sure. 

All he knew for certain was that sitting there, blanketed by an inky black sky dotted with shimmering stars next to her was the only place he wanted to be. He felt a bone-deep peacefulness he’d never experienced in his life and it had everything to do with the pastel blue-haired girl who’d agreed to go stargazing with him. 

"You know," he began, swallowing thickly when she turned to face him. "They say that Vega was a goddess who fell in love with a farmer. She descended the heavens to be with him and promised to bring him back with her. Her father became so enraged with them, he banished them both to the sky, but far apart from one another."

"That's so sad," she whispered, her face scrunched. 

Bucky nodded.

"But," he began, desperate to wipe the frown from her lips, "once a year - on the seventh day of the seventh month - a bridge of magpies forms across the milky way so the lovers can be reunited once more."

It worked.

Y/n's eyes glittered brightly with excitement again and at once Bucky's breath was stolen from his lungs. In that moment, Bucky would have lassoed the moon and brought it to earth if it meant being cocooned in her mirth for a few more seconds. 

"That's so romantic, in a horribly tragic kind of way." She laughed, the sound knitting together pieces of himself he'd long assumed irreparable. "Thank you for this, Bucky. I needed some fresh air."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

The voice in his head bellowed that the blush gracing her cheeks was a figment of his imagination. But, as her hand linked with his, the roar of doubt and fear subsided for a moment. He closed his eyes briefly, meticulously cataloging the feel of her palm in his own. 

"What are you thinking?" Her melodic voice vibrated through the night air.

"Sometimes," he started, unsure how to put his chaotic thoughts into words. "Sometimes I feel like I'm sinking and I can't seem to catch my breath."

Her thumb soothed gentle circles over his knuckles, sending a shiver down his spine. 

"But for some reason - when I'm with you - I feel like I can't help but float." Bucky cringed. As often as he'd considered expressing his budding feelings for her, he had done a piss-poor job when the moment presented itself.

And yet...

Her lips were warm against the rough skin of his hand and it shot little jolts of electricity up his arm and throughout his body. 

"I'll be your Dead Sea, Bucky," her breath tickled the hair on the back of his hand as she pressed another kiss there. "You'll never sink when you're with me."

----

“You’re insane.”

Y/n giggled merrily as the rhythmic swells of Latin beats carried on the breeze from the Puerto Rican restaurant a few doors away.

Bucky grinned. "Probably."

"It's raining!" Y/n protested, a whine lacing her words.

Bucky tipped his head to one side, his hand held out feeling the gentle patter of rain against his skin. 

"’S’not raining, it's sprinkling. I know you're sweet, but I promise ya won't melt." His words were flat, but his lips betrayed the attempt at a deadpan retort.

Y/n simply narrowed her gaze at him, crossing her arms over her chest, though her smile muted the effect of her challenge.

“Aw, cah’mon, sweetheart,” Bucky drawled, Brooklyn accent thick and charming. “No one’s gonna see us.”

“I don’t know how!” 

Y/n glanced nervously from Bucky’s outstretched palm to his face and back. 

“Well, lucky for you, I’m an excellent teacher.” Bucky quirked an eyebrow as his lips drew up in an inviting grin.

Reluctantly - but only just -  she released the air from her lungs in a dramatic sigh, throwing her hands in the air.

“Fine. But it’s only because you’re cute.”

Bucky’s smile widened as his pulse quickened, a rush of warmth heating his cheeks as she placed her right hand in his. He draped her other on his shoulder before planting his right hand against her back.

“It’s easy, just remember one, two, three. One, two, three.” He squeezed her hand encouragingly. “Now, when I step forward you step back. Just mirror my steps and follow my lead. One, two, three. One, two, three.”

Slowly, carefully, Bucky moved them both in a less-than-graceful rendition of a Salsa dance. He didn’t care when she stepped on his toes and cursed under her breath. All that mattered to him was the feel of her in his arms and the sparkle in her eyes as their steps became somewhat synchronized. 

"So," Bucky mused, taking advantage of her gaze averted in favor of their feet. "Cute, huh?"

Y/n's steps faltered, her left foot landing hard against Bucky's right and her head connecting with his chin as she tried to jerk her eyes up to his. Bucky yelped in pain and y/n stumbled backward, her feet tangling with his as they both crumpled to the ground in a heap.

"Oh my God, Bucky!" Y/n gasped, hands scrambling for purchase as she tried to untangle herself. "I'm so sorry! Are you ok?!"

Bucky's deep laughter halted her efforts to climb off him. She laughed then too - high, slightly embarrassed giggles that she tried to cover with her palm. Her eyes widened as his arms tightened around her waist, drawing her in closer.

Bucky swept the faded purple hair from her face, brushing his thumb against her jaw as their laughter died. It was as if time stopped and the only thing that existed in that moment was the two of them. Her breath caught gently when he hooked his fingers behind her neck and began to pull her face to his.

Whether it was poor timing or just another way for the universe to screw him over, he couldn't be sure. But before their lips met, the skies opened up and large, cold raindrops pelted them, instantly drenching them both and ruining whatever moment it might have been. 

Y/n squealed, jumping to her feet and ducking under the shelter of the awning. Defeated, frustrated and wet, Bucky slowly ambled up and joined her a few moments later. Bucky groaned running his fingers through his soaking hair and trying in vain to wring the water out. Y/n grinned, her cheeks and nose dusted a light pink that he was sure hadn't been there before he'd asked her to dance. 

"Y/n," Bucky started but froze when he realized his voice was one of two calling her name in the same moment.

"Mrs. Perry's timer just went off!"

"I'll be right in!" She called back cheerfully, though her eyes shone with reluctance as Bucky stared into them. "Shit. I'm sorry, Bucky. I uh," she pressed her palms together and dropped her gaze briefly. "Thank you for the dance lesson and sorry for...ya know...being about as graceful as a baby moose."

Before he could protest her self-deprecating remark, she leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek and turned to go back inside. Bucky stared after her, his cheek warm despite the chill the rain had tried burying inside his bones.

----

Bucky’s thumb drummed nervously against the wooden surface of the reception desk as he did yet another visual sweep of the room. It was more quiet than he’d expected, though to be honest, he had little to base his assumptions on. 

A few agonizing moments later, a tall, raven haired woman with blood red lips and a ring through her eyebrow approached. She smiled warmly at him, wiping her palms on the front of her black apron.

“Hi, can I help you?”

Bucky swallowed, his nerves making him jittery. “Yeah, I’m looking for y/n.”

“I’m sorry, did you have an appointment?” The woman frowned, a deep crease marring her heavily made-up face. “Judith was supposed to call all of her appointments last night.”

Fear prickled at the back of his neck and a shiver ran down his spine. 

“I didn’t have an appointment. I’m Bucky. From next door? Is she okay?”

“Oh of course. Bucky.” The woman smiled and then sighed. “Her father passed away yesterday afternoon. I know she’d been expecting it eventually, but I don’t think anyone is really ever ready.”

His heart broke for her. He wished he’d known or that there was something he could have done. He’d make the earth spin backwards if it would make her happy.

“Do you know where she lives?” Bucky cringed knowing how stalker-y that sounded. “I just, I’m worried about her.”

The woman pursed her lips, her eyes roaming over his face, studying him. Whatever she’d found there must have been enough because she pulled out a pen and a slip of paper.

“If anything happens to her, Bucky From Next Door, I will not hesitate to kill you. I know where you work and I know that boss of yours better than you do.” She scribbled something on the paper before pushing it towards him. Her expression softened, then, a small smirk playing at the edge of her lips. “Besides, I think she could use a friend right now. If that’s what you’re calling yourselves these days.”

Bucky blushed, but nodded. He mumbled his thanks as he hurried out the door.

----

Bucky paused, his fist poised to knock on the bright yellow door as he sucked in a steadying breath. The setting sun stole the warmth of spring from the air and he found himself shivering. Just when he calmed his nerves, the door opened suddenly, startling him and forcing him to take a step backward. Y/n’s face was pale and her wide eyes were rimmed with red, but the visible signs of sorrow did nothing to lessen her beauty. 

“Bucky?” She gasped a second before she lunged for him, wrapping him in a fierce hug. 

He held her as she shuddered against him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. The sound of her broken sobs made his stomach churn and he rubbed small, comforting circles against her back. 

She pulled back suddenly, rubbing her eyes violently and huffing a frustrated laugh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blubber all over - “

“No,” Bucky cut her off. “Sweetheart, don’t apologize. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Sniffling, she tried smiling, though it was little more than a faint upturn of her lips. 

"You are, aren't you." Her nose scrunched in thought. "How did you know?"

Bucky ran a shaking hand through his hair, eyes focused in his scuffed boots.

"I, uh," he cleared his throat. "I stopped by to see if I could get a haircut. They told me about...what happened." He looked at her then. "I'm so sorry, y/n." 

She nodded, arms wrapping around herself. 

"I knew it was coming soon, I just," she took a deep breath and released it. She continued, voice soft. "I thought I would have more time, ya know?"

Bucky hummed in understanding. 

"You want to come in? I just made some coffee." She laughed. "I don't even know why I came out here. I think I'm a little out of it."

Bucky followed her inside, shutting the door behind him. She led him through the small entryway and into the kitchen, dodging a small pile of suitcases stacked near the doorway. Glasses rattled as she searched for a pair of mismatched mugs and set them on the counter beside the coffee pot.

"You goin' somewhere?" Bucky tipped his head toward the bags when she looked at him. 

Her eyes flashed with something Bucky didn't understand before she turned back to her task. The scent of black coffee was comforting as she handed him a mug. A frowning panda glared up at him from the surface of the cup below the words "I hate mornings." It made Bucky smile. 

Y/n cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her. She faced him, hip resting against the edge of the counter. 

"He had been sick for so long, I started to think that this was all my life would ever be. I figured I'd stay, take care of him, maybe get a few cats." Cradling her own mug in one hand, she ran her fingers through uncharacteristically messy orange hair. "But, now that he's...gone…" her voice trembled on the words, but she continued. "I don't know. I think domestic life never really suited me. I kind of want to live for myself, for a change."

Bucky nodded, forcing down the lump in his throat before taking a sip of coffee. 

Y/n smoothed her hands along the sides of her mug, her brow furrowed as she stared at the black liquid. 

"His funeral is Tuesday," she sniffed. "I didn't really have any expenses here, so I've got some money saved. I thought, why not just get away for awhile, ya know?"

Bucky set his cup down and took a step toward her. Her breath hitched, though she didn't look at him. Carefully he tugged the mug from her hands and placed it beside his.

"Well, I'm glad," he smirked, placing his hands on her shoulders and squeezing gently. "Cause you and cats? That's just not right."

Y/n giggled, the sound oddly strangled around the sudden resurgence of tears. 

"C'mere," he sighed, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head under his chin. She breathed deeply, hugging him closer and fisting her hands in the back of his shirt. 

This time when she pulled back, she kept hold of him, but her face twisted in confusion.

"Wait, did you say you wanted a haircut?!" Her voice bordered on incredulous. 

Bucky shrugged one shoulder. "Thought it might be time for a change. 'Sides, you said you wanted to get your hands on it." 

Y/n gaped at him and reached up to run her fingers through his chestnut locks. The feel of her nails against his scalp forced his eyes closed and he hummed lightly.

She tugged on one strand, not enough to hurt but enough to get his attention. When his eyes opened again, the soft look on her face startled him. Her hand dropped to the curve of his jaw, her thumb brushing gently against the bristles peppering his cheek.

"Maybe a trim, but there's no way I could deprive the world of this hair, Buck. That would be a travesty." She blushed. "I only wanted an excuse to run my fingers through it."

Without giving himself a chance to back out, Bucky dipped his head and kissed her. Her lips were warm and she sighed, pressing herself closer to him. His tongue licked across her lip as his nose brushed hers. He pulled back, tugging her bottom lip gently between his before sucking in a steadying breath. 

She smiled, pressing her forehead against his. "About time."

Bucky chuckled, pecking her lips twice as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Come with me."

Her voice was so low, he wondered for a moment if he'd imagined it, but her gaze was pleading. 

"Y/n," he sighed. "I don't know if that's a good idea." 

Defeat, exhaustion, embarrassment and rejection played across her face as she nodded, her hands dropping at her sides.

"Sorry," she breathed, turning away from him. 

Bucky caught her elbow and turned her back to face him. 

"It's not because I don't want to, because God knows I do," he bit down on his lip, clenching his eyes shut in preparation for what came next. "There's just things about me that you don't know. Things I don't want you to know, because seeing disappointment in your eyes might actually kill me."

Her hand cupped his cheek, thumb tracing the edge of his mouth before gently tugging his lip from between his teeth. His eyes found hers again and his heart stammered at the tenderness there.

"Bucky, I don't have to know everything about who you used to be to know you are a good man. I could never be disappointed in you."

Her words lifted a small part of the weight he'd carried from the East coast, though he figured the bulk of it would likely remain with him forever. 

"When I left New York, I didn't know exactly where I was going. I just headed west, kept moving, until I got here. This just felt right, somehow. I don't know why I stopped here, y/n. I needed someone I could trust, but it felt impossible. I felt like all I would ever do was sink under the weight of what I left behind." He smoothed a hand through her hair, watching the way the light danced over the brightly colored strands. "But then I met you and, I know I don't deserve it, and I'll never be worthy enough, but you make me want to try. Try to be better, try to be a good man."

She frowned at him then, and confusion jumbled his thoughts and burned his eyes. 

"You don't have to try, Bucky. You are." She smiled. "And I already told you. You'll never sink when you're with me."

Bucky kissed her, this time with a fierceness. Her tongue meet his eagerly and once again he found himself sinking, but this time in all the best ways. 

He pulled back, his lips swollen and his lungs aching for air. 

"Come with me, Bucky." She plead again, her voice was rough and he knew he'd lost any willpower he'd once had to her. 

He nodded and she rewarded him with the sweetest smile he'd ever known. Once again he found himself dumbstruck.

Curling her fingers with his, she tugged him out of the kitchen - away their already forgotten mismatched mugs half-full of warm coffee - and led him to the sofa. He sat down, pulling her onto his lap and resting his chin against her hair. 

A comfortable silence fell between them as he stroked her back and breathed in the scent of her. If he could bottle up a moment in time to save forever, this would be it. He'd never felt such peace and while he struggled to accept his worthiness of such a feeling, knowing she trusted him meant the world. 

She sniffed, pulling back to look into his eyes, and the sorrow he saw etched into her face was palpable.

"Would you stay the night?" Her lip quivered as she tried and failed to blink back tears. "I - uh- I don't want to be alone."

Bucky pecked her lips, brushing away the wetness trailing her cheeks. "Sweetheart, you don't have to be alone, ever again."

----

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :)

My Forever Tags - Stay weird. I love y’all: @wheresthekillswitch @pretty-fortune @arryn-nyxx @emlostinwonderland @becs-bunker @cookie-dough-lova @impandagrl @maddieburcham1 @trexrambling @beachballsizeladyballs @hannahindie @rosie-winchester @winchesterprincessbride @that-writer-one @fandomismyspirit @angelsandwinchesters @cfordwrites @charliebradbury1104 @mogaruke @luulaachops @supernaturaldean67  @barbedwireandbubblegum @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @muliermalefici @galaxy-jellyfish-queen @canadianjelly @kathaswings @feelmyroarrrr​ @bethbabybaby​ @myfanficlibrarium​ @akshi8278​ @emoryhemsworth​ @boxywrites​ @atc74​ @anticipate1003​ @super100012​ @lovesj2m​ @masksandtruths​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @growningupgeek​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @amanda-teaches​ @cassieraider​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @its-my-perky-nipples​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @sandlee44​ @paintrider13-blog​ @arses21434​ @petra-arkanian-1497​ @sasbb23​ @princessmisery666​

MCU Tags (I’m still deciding how I’ll be tagging MCU vs SPN in the future so this is subject to change):

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[rabbitcruiser]

South Shore Riverfront Park, Pittsburgh (No. 2)

The Three Rivers Heritage Trail is an urban rail trail paralleling the riverbanks in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and Allegheny County for about 33 miles (53 km), often on both sides of the rivers, and offering views of the city. The trail is promoted and maintained in part by the 'Friends of the Riverfront'. Their stated mission is to increase awareness and engagement with the region's rivers and riverfronts through activities and stewardship, and to extend the water and land trails on the major rivers within Allegheny County.

At the Pittsburgh Point State Park, there are three rivers: the Allegheny River and Monongahela River, which unite to form the Ohio River. The Three Rivers Heritage Trail extends three miles (5 km) up the north side of the Allegheny River to Millvale, and also three miles (5 km) down the north bank of the Ohio River to Brunot Island. On the Monongahela River, the trail goes five miles (8 km) upriver from Station Square to a point just short of the Waterfront Shopping District.

Within the city, the trail takes the names of neighborhoods through which it passes. The north bank of the Allegheny River is Pittsburgh's North Side also known as Northside, and the trail is referred to locally as the 'North Shore Trail'. On the north bank of the Ohio River, the trail is called the 'Chateau Trail' after the neighborhood along which it runs. On the south bank of the Allegheny, it goes through the food market area and is called the 'Strip District Trail'.

On Monongahela River's north bank, it is called the 'Eliza Furnace Trail' because it passes the site where the Jones and Laughlin Steel Company once had its Eliza Furnaces. Some people call this section the 'Jail Trail' because it also passes the Allegheny County Jail on its way to Oakland, the university center of the city. A branch that extends into Schenley Park in Oakland is called the 'Junction Hollow Trail'. As it moves further up the Monongahela River towards Frick Park, it is called the 'Duck Hollow Trail', because that is where a stream exits the park into the Monongahela. On the south bank of the Monongahela in Pittsburgh's South Side, it is called the 'South Side Trail'.

The trail hosts public art and has 61 interpretive signs along the trail, highlighting the region's heritage and riverfront ecology.

Pittsburgh is one terminus of the 335-mile (539 km) long 'Great Allegheny Passage' (GAP) that connects the city to Cumberland, Maryland and Washington, D.C. The route of the GAP uses five miles (8 km) of the 'Three Rivers Heritage Trail'. Within the city, the GAP goes from the Waterfront Mall and Sandcastle upstream on the Monongahela River, and then at the SouthSide Works crosses the river on the Hot Metal Bridge. Finally, it uses the north bank of the Monongahela to reach the Pittsburgh Point.

The 'Friends of the Riverfront' have also developed and administer the 'Three Rivers Water Trail', along the riverfronts of Allegheny County, for kayakers and canoeists, with access points, parking areas, and boat racks. For many years, the trail hosted the annual 'Pittsburgh Triathlon', a competition for top athletes who use the land and water routes to bike, run, and swim for this Olympic qualifier. A less demanding version is the 'Adventure Race', for friends, families, and teams who wish to paddle, bike, and run a shorter yet challenging course.

Source: Wikipedia

[decoarchitecture]

Cincinnati Union Terminal, Cincinnati, Ohio Source: Ohio History Connection

I could post pics of this building all day...

Nice, long description and history from the archive:

In the early twentieth century, Cincinnati was linked to a number of other major cities through its rail lines. Union Terminal, a single railroad terminal, was developed to provide service for all passenger and freight lines entering the city. Construction began in the 1920s on the art deco style structure that was designed by architects Alfred Fellheimer and Stewart Wagner. Finished on March 31, 1933, Union Terminal had the largest half-dome in the world at the time. Even today it is the largest half-dome in the Western hemisphere.

The artwork associated with Union Terminal was as amazing as the physical structure. Maxfield Keck designed bas-relief figures that represented Commerce and Transportation to flank the main doors. Winold Reiss, a German-born artist, designed murals made from glass mosaic tiles to decorate the interior of the terminal. The art deco style murals illustrate the United States' transportation history, different types of work in the United States, and Cincinnati history. Most of the murals were placed within the main entry of the terminal, but additional murals, portraying major Cincinnati businesses, were located in the concourse. The concourse was torn down in the 1970s, and these murals were relocated to the Northern Kentucky/Greater Cincinnati International Airport. Another artist, Pierre Bourdelle, created a mural at the entrance of the women's lounge.

After success as a train terminal throughout the 1930s and 1940s, competition from automobiles and passenger airline service led to a decline in use of the terminal. By 1972, the last train service to Union Terminal ended. After a failed attempt in 1980 to turn Union Terminal into a shopping mall, the building was opened once again in November 1990 and was known as the Museum Center. The renovated Union Terminal now houses the Cincinnati Museum of Natural History and Science, the Cincinnati History Museum, the Cincinnati Historical Society Library, the Cinergy Children's Museum, and an OMNIMAX theater. Amtrak began offering passenger train service to Union Terminal beginning in 1991.

Union Terminal was listed on the National Register of Historic Places on October 31, 1972. Its significance as one of the few remaining large art deco terminals meant that it also became a National Historic Landmark in 1977.

More Photos:

For a large selection of terminal photos, including many interior shots, search the Cincinnati public library’s archive. The site has a big warning on it about not sharing photos without permission, which is why I’m not sharing them directly.

[writing-prompts-for-friends]

With a Banjo on My Knee

“Whatever our theme in writing, it is old and tired,

Whatever our place, it has been visited by the stranger, it will never be new again. It is only the vision that can be new; but that is enough.” --Eudora Welty

Mining the places you have lived can be a great way to unearth ideas. Too often, we feel that the places we were born and raised lack the sort of exoticism that will attract readers. Believe me, I share this feeling. I was born and raised in Ohio, which is synonymous with, even symbolic of, bland America.

Of course, what is ordinary to us can be exotic to someone else. The key is being able to truly see the world around you, finding the details that evoke it. A world that is keenly evoked will be exotic to those who don’t know it well and will allow those who do know it well to see it with fresh eyes. So don’t dismiss the place where you live or where you grew up as bereft of idea possibilities. In fact, it’s probably full of them. If you aren’t see them, look harder. If you hear yourself say, “Nothing happened where I grew up,” or, “It was just a normal, typical place,” you’re missing something. In my creative writing classes, I always stopped students who wrote of--or even spoke of--something as “normal” or “typical.” These words are a writer’s enemies. They tell us you’re not seeing beneath the surface, and readers come to writers for help in seeing beneath the surface.

When evoking a sense of place, writers today, unfortunately, must look harder than writers of fifty to one hundred years ago. They must peer deeply through the filter of what Max Apple called “the oranging of America.” By this he meant the disappearance of regional and ethnical nuance. The melting pot of the world is melting into one giant franchise. His story with that title chronicles the quest of Howard Johnson, restaurant owner and hotelier, to erect his orange-roofed establishments from coast to coast as beacons of reassuring sameness to comfort weary, hungry travelers. This trend is truer now than when Apple wrote of it in the 1970′s. In your own travels, you’ve surely noticed that towns from Maine to California all have the same Burger King, Walmart, Starbuck’s, and, of course, the ubiquitous Golden Arches.

The proliferation of this franchise mentality, strip-mall America, makes it more difficult than ever for writers to see and to evoke a particular sense of place in their work. And yet our jobs as writers--whether poets or playwrights, novelists, or essayists--is to make the world new again for our readers, to allow for fresh insights and discoveries. Avoid the shorthand, brand-name approach, which too easily characterizes a place. Instead, look for ways to follow Ezra Pound’s artistic commandment to “make it new.”

Source: Heffron, Jack. The Writers Idea Book: How to Develop Great Ideas for Fiction, Nonfiction, Poetry & Screenplays. Writers Digest, 2012.

[route22ny]

A postcard view of the public buildings of The Mall in Cleveland, Ohio as seen from the top of Terminal Tower, circa 1940.  The Cleveland Mall is a long public park in downtown Cleveland and one of the most complete examples of City Beautiful design in the United States.

source: hippostcard.com

[alicefelldowntheh0le]

Any L Steps - 6 Steps of Real Estate Shelling out

Real estate investing in Miami real estate is now becoming popular once more as there are many properties in foreclosure, short sale, bank or investment company reo's, and government foreclosures. With such an overwhelming products of homes available for sale a real estate investor must be qualified to determine which one to purchase. Investors must follow six simple steps in order to learn, understand and achieve Miami real estate investment achieving success. These are the six L steps to Miami real estate property investing: 1 . Location - Location, location, location remains the key of buying Miami real estate. Buying Miami real estate just because the price is low in a declining area is giant mistake that should be avoided. Look for homes in an excellent specific location like, good schools, economic stable and growing communities, near shopping centers and malls, near bus stops plus metro rails, near hospitals and restaurants. Sometimes it is far better pay a little more for a property in a good location compared with getting a bargain in a place where it is very hard selling or rent the asset. Location is often overlooked on purchasing real estate as many investor think they can overcome a terrible location if the price is low enough. Out of couple of homes that are exactly the same, the one in the best location should command a much higher sales price and rental source of income. Location is the number consideration when purchasing Miami Southern region Florida real estate. 2 . Long Term - Real estate investing is actually a long term proposition. Don't think you are going to be a millionaire over night. You will need years of hard work and dedication in order to succeed. Put any property at least one year before selling it. Growth capital gain taxes will be greatly reduced. Consider renting the home and property for at two or three years. The rental income developed will help you to properly repair and renovate the property. Many purchasers purchased properties in the middle of real estate boom with no money downward and no equity. These investors were thinking of flipping any homes fast and make a killing in the process. Many properties now in foreclosure are due to investors that were ensnared in the middle and now realize that real estate investing is very hard for you to time. Long term Miami real estate investing is the secret towards a successful real estate career. 3. Lease Option - Never ever rent a property with a lease option to buy. Either market or rent it straight out. A lease decision usually is a disaster for both buyers and owners. The tenant will demand a large discount of the hire to go towards the down payment and closing costs. The problem is who tenant will not buy the property at the end of the lease as well as landlord/seller will have wasted a lot of money in rebates given to the particular tenant/buyer. Demand a 20% or 30% deposit out of your tenant/buyer and a clause in the contract that if they default on the purchase they will lose the deposit. This technique will probably force the tenant/buyer to purchase the property or lose typically the deposit. The risk of losing the deposit will get rid of the tenant from taking advantage of the landlord by walking right out the contract after receiving a monthly rental discount. 4. Localized - Buy real estate close to where you live. Don't buy properties in another state or in another country. Keep real estate shelling out local. Buy in your own county and in your city. The more you're sure about the area where you are buying the better the decision will be. The particular investor should always be close to the investment property. The Ohio real estate investor should inspect the property often to determine any specific repair, roof and other problems. The landlord must examin the property every month when collecting the rent. Check for the amount of tenants actually living in the property, check for damages and break down of the property and overall condition of the place. Typically the investor/landlord will not be able to inspect and determine the condition of the house and property if it is located far away. Keeping real estate local is an crucial step in real estate investing. 5. Leverage - Most realty books and seminars tell you to use other people's money once purchasing real estate. This technique is not the best and buyers should certainly try to buy the property in cash if at all possible. Buying a house hold in cash will help you get a better deal and allow you to definitely negotiate from a position of strength. A cash patron will always have the upper hand in negotiating with banks, householders, and other sellers. Cash buyers will not suffer and go deep into foreclosure if the market turns and they are unable to sell or perhaps rent the house right away. Like Dave Ramsey always states "cash is king and debt is dumb". Selecting an investment property in cash is an excellent way to avoid New mexico real estate investment mistakes. 6. Learn - Research the property as well as learn everything about it before you buy. A mistake in Arkansas real estate investing can be very costly. Usually you make your hard earned dollar when you buy not when you sell. Buying the property around the wrong price the wrong place and at the wrong occasion could be detrimental. One mistake could wipe you through and put you out of business before you start. Ask things to the experts, real estate agents, appraisers, mortgage brokers, and other real estate buyers. Learn, research, educate yourself in all aspects of real estate investing prior to purchase the asset.